Sammy's in Trouble
by GrumpyMagrat
Summary: What happens when Sam finds himself in the family way. WARNING MPREG!
1. Chapter 1

Author notes: This was written way back in 2008. Since the death of my writing partner haven't written anything new. Dusted this off and publish it.

Do not own anything. Just playing with them for fun.

Sammy's in Trouble

By Grumpymagrat and Magratconvert

"Come on, Sammy. Get up." Dean shook Sam's bed.

Sam groaned and pulled his blanket over his head. "Leave me alone, Dean."

Dean yanked the blanket off the bed. "Get moving. I'm hungry."

Sam instinctively sat up to try to grab the blanket back, but his stomach did an abrupt flip-flop. He curled up in a ball as he lay back down. Grasping his stomach, Sam moaned. "Oh God, don't even mention food."

Dean frowned as he looked at his brother. "You look like crap. What's wrong with you?"

Sam uncurled some and tried to straighten out the blanket that Dean had tossed on top of him. "I think that I must have picked up a stomach flu. I'm fighting hard not to puke here."

Dean reached out and placed a hand on Sam's forehead. "Well, you don't have a fever. You probably picked up food poisoning from that café last night…damn jerk-water town."

"Then you should fit right in," Sam snorted in disgust.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Dean asked in surprise.

Sam sighed as he tried to find a comfortable way to lie on the bed. "Just because Beaver Creek is a small town doesn't make it a 'jerk-water' one, and you're being a jerk by implying it. Besides, we both ate the same beef stew 'special'. So if it was food poisoning, you'd be just as sick as me. You're just pissed because your plans have gotten complicated."

"Well, we do have a job to do, in case you've forgotten," Dean replied a bit sharply. "The murders only occur every five years on June first, which is only four days from now. Call me a concerned citizen, but I really don't want to see another murder if we can help it."

Sam gave up trying to get some more sleep. He moved to a sitting position at the edge of the bed. "You go out and snoop around town, and I'll stay here and try to do some more research on the net. We can compare notes later. Hopefully, we can…" Whatever else Sam was going to say was cut off as he flew to the bathroom.

Dean winced in sympathy as he stood outside the bathroom door listening to Sam trying to expel the small amount of bile from his stomach. He began to feel a bit guilty for arguing with Sam when he was obviously sick. "Are you okay?" he called through the partially opened door.

"Yeah," Sam gasped in between what had turned into dry heaves. "Just give me a minute."

It actually was longer than a minute, and Dean's 'big brother' instincts were beginning to kick in. He was just about to force his way into the bathroom when he heard Sam move to the sink and rinse his mouth out. Dean was taken aback slightly by Sam's ashen grey pallor, while he weakly leaned against the bathroom door jam.

"God, Sam, you look like shit," Dean said trying to lighten the mood and to cover his own worries.

"I feel like shit," Sam replied as he slowly made his way across the room to his bed which he practically fell into. "I'm sorry, Dean. You're going to have to handle this hunt until I get over whatever the hell this is."

Dean helped straighten the blanket over his brother. "Maybe I should stay here just in case you need me."

"No," Sam said weakly. "You said it yourself. We only have four days to figure out what's going on. Just because I obviously can't go out, doesn't mean we can ignore what is going on in this town. So get going."

Dean nodded his head. "Do you want me to bring you something to eat? Eggs? Toast? Coffee?"

Sam groaned and pulled the blanket over his head. "God, Dean, no, I said don't even mention food. Just go."

Dean let out a small laugh. "Okay, get some rest. I'll see you later." Dean slipped out the door and headed to the café for breakfast.

Dean returned to the hotel shortly after four in the afternoon. He found Sam sitting at the small table in front of the laptop. "Hey, how're you feeling?"

"Better," Sam answered. "My stomach still feels a little rough, but at least I don't feel like I need to puke anymore. Did you find anything out?"

Dean shook his head. "Not really, but let's talk over some food. I missed lunch, and I'm starving. Do you want to go out, or do you want me to bring something back?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm not really hungry, but you go ahead. I'll keep looking on the web."

"You haven't eaten anything all day," Dean argued. "You need to eat something, even if it's something light."

Sam continued to shake his head. "Look, Dean, I'm finally feeling like I'm getting on the upside of this. I don't want to relapse by pushing my stomach too soon. By tomorrow morning, I should be ready for a nice big breakfast."

"Well, at least let me bring you some coffee, "Dean replied.

Sam sighed. "If it'll make you feel better."

Dean grinned. "Great, I'll be back in a little bit."

"Take your time," Sam said distractedly as Dean left the hotel room.

It was a little over a half hour before Dean returned carrying a bag of food and two cups of coffee. "Honey…I'm home," Dean announced with a sing-song lilt. "I went ahead and brought you an apple Danish just in case you decided you wanted something to go along with your coffee." Dean set one of the cups on the table next to the laptop.

Sam got a good whiff of the coffee, and his stomach turned suddenly. He made a mad dash back into the bathroom and began to heave violently again.

Dean stood at the open bathroom door. "Sam?" he asked worriedly.

"The coffee…" Sam gasped out. "Get rid…of the coffee. The smell…"

Dean grabbed both cups of coffee and threw them along with his bag of food out the door of the hotel room. He swung the door back and forth to dissipate the smell that had already permeated the room.

Once Sam's stomach had quit heaving, he stumbled back into the room and threw himself onto his bed. "Oh God," he moaned. "So much for getting better."

"Maybe, I should go to the drug store and see if they have something to help settle your stomach," Dean offered.

"It's just a simple stomach bug." Sam replied. "It just needs to work through my system. I'll be better tomorrow. I'm sure of it."

"All right," Dean sighed. "But if you're not better tomorrow, I _am_ going to do something about it."

Sam laughed. "So, what? Now you have a medical degree that I don't know about?"

"No," Dean shook his head. "But I'm sure that I can find someone with one."

Sam rolled over to face Dean. "Quit being such a mother hen. Now, did you find out anything today?"

Dean shook his head. "Not really, there are a lot of local folk stories about Indian raids due to broken treaties, stolen lands, defiled burial grounds, and forced relocation to the reservations. We could be dealing with an Indian curse."

"I don't think so," Sam replied. "It doesn't really fit. I did some research on the local paper's web site. According to them, the last four victims have all been from Native American decent. Usually, they didn't curse themselves."

"Maybe it's a curse between two tribes? " Dean suggested.

"I guess that's a possibility," Sam answered.

"But…" Dean prompted.

"I don't know, Dean," Sam said. "There's just something about the murders themselves…stabbings, amputations, severed arteries, things that caused terminal blood loss. The victims lived for a few minutes after the initial injury, not long enough to get help, but long enough for them to suffer and know that they were going to die. To me, that sounds personal, like a vengeful spirit."

"Which is targeting Native Americans." Dean nodded his head. "It makes sense. Do we know if it's any Indians or just one specific tribe?"

Sam shook his head. "I'll have to research the victims more to determine their tribes. Tomorrow, I think we should go to the Bureau of Vital Statistics, and look up the deaths for June first every five years as far back as the records go. We can make a list of victims and cross reference them. Hopefully, we'll find a common link that will explain this."

Dean nodded. "Okay, that's if you're feeling better tomorrow. What do you want to do this evening?"

Sam laughed. "I want you to get something to eat since you didn't eat whatever it was that you brought back from the café. Then go find a place to have a couple of drinks. Maybe then, you won't hound me about being sick."

Dean laughed along with his brother. "So, sue me for being a concerned brother…geesh. All right, I'll be back later. Call me if you need me."

Sam flipped through the television channels and finally settled on a Star Trek rerun. He dozed throughout the evening, and then fell into a sound sleep once Dean had returned.

The next morning Sam woke before Dean. He slowly sat up. His stomach turned again, but he took a few deep breaths to calm it. He shuffled into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He felt his shoulders and back muscles relax under the warm spray. When he left the bathroom, Dean was awake and watching TV.

"How are you feeling today?" Dean demanded as soon as he saw his brother.

"I'm fine. I told you I would be." Sam replied. Glossing over how he really felt. "Now, if you will do your business, we can go get some breakfast."

Dean smiled. "You got it, Sammy," he said as he headed into the bathroom.

"And don't call me Sammy," Sam jokingly called through the door.

Dean stuck his head out the door and said saucily. "Okay, you got it, bitch." He then ducked back into the bathroom.

Tears suddenly sprang to Sam's eyes, and he felt totally crushed when Dean called him "bitch". Sam grabbed his bag and pulled some clean clothes from it. He brushed at his eyes. "Pull yourself together," his mind demanded. "It's not the first time he has called you bitch. He doesn't mean anything by it. Just like you don't mean anything when you call him jerk." He sat down on his bed and forced himself to calm down. "It must be the not eating yesterday. Your blood sugar levels must be off. It's making you emotional," he told himself. It must have worked because by the time Dean emerged from the bathroom Sam was dressed and ready to go.

A short time later, the two Winchesters were walking across the parking lot, heading for the café.

"Man, I can't believe that you went a whole day without eating," Dean teased his brother. "You must be starving."

Sam shrugged. "It's not that bad."

"Aw, cone on," Dean continued his teasing. "You're a growing boy. You've got to have a hollow pit in your stomach."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm not like you, Dean. I don't have to eat constantly."

Sam reached out for the door handle, but Dean reached out and poked Sam in the ribs. "Look at you; you're nothing but skin and bones."

Sam yelped when Dean poked him. "That's not funny." He gave Dean a disgusted look as he wrapped his arms protectively around his waist. "I didn't lose **that** much weight in just one day, at least not more than I could stand to lose," he practically growled out.

Dean laughed and reached for the door handle himself. "Come on, let's get you some food. You're grouchy when you're hungry."

Sam opened his mouth to refute Dean's statement, but then he closed it again. Nothing he said would make any difference to Dean. Dean was on a roll with his teasing, and Sam would only be giving him more ammunition if he tried to argue. Sam shook his head and quietly followed Dean into the restaurant. Unfortunately, as soon as he entered the café, he was overwhelmed by the smells of a greasy spoon, cooking bacon, eggs, the sweet smell of pancakes and syrup, but the most powerful smell was the smell of coffee that seemed to supersede all the other odors. His stomach began to turn again. Sam rushed back out the door. He took a couple of deep breaths to clear the smells from his head. He was relieved when the nauseousness that had started to build began to abate.

Dean was confused at Sam's abrupt departure from the restaurant. He followed his brother out of the café. "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you still sick? I thought you said that you were getting better?"

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean. "I am getting better. It's just that my stomach is still a little sensitive after all that vomiting yesterday. The smells in there were just a little much for me."

"Well, this is just great," Dean snorted. "You need to eat, and just how do you plan on doing that if you can't handle the smell of food?"

Sam shook his head. "It's just the intensity of the smells in the restaurant. Look, there's a small park in the next block. Why don't you get our breakfast to go and meet me down there?"

"All right," Dean nodded. "What do you want? Bacon and eggs? A vegetable omelet? Pancakes?"

Sam shook his head again. "No, I think that I'll just have some toast."

"Toast? Just toast?" Dean asked. "Are you sure that's all you want?"

Sam sighed. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"You want coffee to drink, right?" Dean asked, but it sounded more like a statement.

Sam shook his head again. "No, actually, I think that I'd like some tea."

"Tea and toast?" Dean couldn't keep the laughter out of his voice.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "Is there a problem with that?"

Dean grinned cockily. "It's a bit wimpy. Don't ya think?"

"Whatever, Dean," Sam said disgustedly. "I'm glad that I can be a source of amusement for you."

Dean continued his harassment. "Since I'm getting it to go, I can claim it's for my little old grandmother."

Sam held his arms out in exasperation. "Why do you have to tell them anything? It's none of their business."

"Are you sure that you don't want me to get you 'milk' toast?" Dean laughed.

"Get me whatever the hell you want," Sam declared angrily. "I'll be waiting at the park." He turned and stalked away.

"Don't be mad, Sam," Dean called after him. "I was only joking." Sam ignored him and kept walking. "What a grouch," Dean mumbled as he re-entered the café and ordered their food. After breakfast, Sam and Dean went their separate ways to do more research. Dean went to the newspaper office to check out the old copies that Sam was unable to access online while Sam went to the bureau of vital statistics to look up deaths for June first.

Dean sat at a table in the newspaper's morgue. He perused the printouts in front of him. A pretty blonde brought him another stack of papers. "Here you go, Mr. Cameron. Here are the last copies of the editions for the first week of June for as far back as we keep records."

"Thank you, Karen." Dean flashed her his trademark smile. "And please call me Jim." He leafed through the copies. "How far do these go back?"

"Back to 1938," Karen answered. "The paper was started in 1919, but if they kept copies of the first editions, they were lost somehow." Karen leaned over and smiled slyly at Dean. "I find this all terribly interesting. I've never met a Hollywood writer before. Is there anything else that I can do for you?"

"You've been a great help already." Dean began to blow her off, but then changed his mind. "Have you lived here in Beaver Creek very long?"

"Born and raised here all my life," Karen replied as she sat across from Dean.

"So, you would know all the local folk lore," Dean said. "You know things like ghost sightings, haunted houses and such."

Karen nodded her head. "Of course, I do. Everyone knows that you don't go to lover's leap on Valentine's Day because of the jilted lover who jumped off there over a hundred years ago. It's said that he is looking for his 'girlfriend' to push over the cliff to join with him in death. Or there are plenty of stories of ghosts appearing in the 'old town cemetery' on Halloween night."

"What about late spring?" Dean interrupted trying to get back to June. "Like late May or early June?"

"What's with June?" Karen laughed. "First you want to see the papers for that time, and now you're asking about it."

Dean shrugged nonchalantly. "It's a new angle on a horror movie that I'm thinking about. There are plenty of movies about haunted houses and graveyards. My idea is a 'haunted date'. You know, one day out of the year that strange things happen: mysterious sights, ghost sightings, or strange deaths."

Karen thought for a moment and then shook her head. "No, I can't think of anything."

Dean leaned forward resting his arms on the table. "So, you don't know of any traumatic deaths that happened on June first?"

"This is your lucky day," Karen answered. "Or maybe not since it doesn't have anything to do with 'hauntings'."

Dean shrugged again. "Tell me anyways. I never know where my inspiration can come from."

"Well, first off, I don't want you to think that my family are bigots, because we're not," Karen began. "But when I introduced my boyfriend to my grandfather, he mentioned how times had changed for me to be dating a Native American."

Dean shook his head. "I'm not following you. Your grandfather doesn't like American Indians?"

Karen shook her head. "No, it's not like that. He's fine with them. It's just that his grandfather's grandfather, something like that, I'm not really sure about the generations. Anyways, he was the sole survivor of his family's massacre by a small group of Sioux Indians."

This happened on June first?"

Karen nodded. "Yeah, it was June 1, 1862. My great-whatever-grandfather was five at the time. He was the youngest of seven children, and his father was trying to get a farm going a few miles outside of town. Then one day when they were out working in the fields, an Indian raiding party attacked and murdered everyone, or so they thought. My grandfather did survive though. It was two days before someone found him, and his legs were never right after that. He had to walk with a crutch the rest of his life."

"That's horrible." Dean hoped he sounded sympathetic. "What happened to him?"

"Well, he was adopted by the town banker and his wife, who were childless." Karen answered. "He actually had a nice life. Probably better than he would have had living on a farm. But he always carried his hatred toward Indians especially Sioux. He always said that he would make them pay for what they did to his family, even if he had to come back from the dead."

"Wow, that was interesting," Dean said. "Do you happen to know his name and when he died?"

"His name was Joshua," Karen nodded. "Joshua Arthur Smith Tillman and he died in the nineteen-teens. I'm not sure the exact year."

"Is he buried in the 'old town cemetery' that you mentioned before?" Dean continued his questioning.

Karen shook her head. "No, he's buried in the Tillman private family cemetery. It's in town behind the Tillman House Bed and Breakfast if you want to see it."

"Maybe I'll check it out later," Dean said as he glanced at his watch. "But right now, I have to meet someone." He gathered up his papers and shook Karen's hand. "Thank you, Karen. You've been a great help."

Karen smiled. "It was my pleasure. Let me know if you need anything else, and let me know when your movie comes out."

"I will," Dean answered and left the newspaper office whistling.

Dean entered the one and only café in town once more. He spotted Sam, already seated in a booth. "You know, we're lucky that they've got good food here or we'd be in real trouble." Dean joked as he slid into the opposite side of the booth. He was slightly surprised by the plate of onion rings sitting in the middle of the table. "What is that?"

"They're onion rings." Sam mumbled around the one he had just shoved into his mouth.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I do know that. But I also know that you don't like onions. So why are you eating them?"

Sam shrugged. "They just sounded good." He reached for another and dipped it into a white creamy substance.

"And what are you dipping it in?" Dean demanded.

"It's mayonnaise," Sam answered.

Dean screwed up his face. "That's disgusting," he declared.

Sam shook his head. "No, it's really good. You should try it."

Dean snagged an onion ring but forewent the mayo. "I don't think so," he said as he shoved the ring into his mouth. "Where's our waitress? I'm starved."

Sam motioned to a young waitress who came over and took their order. Sam ordered a turkey club sandwich and a bowl of soup, while Dean ordered a bacon double cheeseburger with fries.

"So, did you find anything out?" Dean asked while they waited for their food.

Sam shook his head. "Nope, I turned up a big fat zero. Apparently, there was a fire at the courthouse in the early 1930s, and they lost all the death records from before that. How about you?"

"Me?" Dean grinned widely. "Me, Sammy, my boy, I hit the mother load."

Sam rolled his eyes. "IF you had already figured this out, why'd you even **ask** me what I found?"

Dean shrugged. "I guess I wanted to see if you found anything that would corroborate the story I heard."

Sam waited for Dean to continue, but Dean shoved another onion ring into his mouth. After a couple of seconds, Sam prompted in irritation. "So, are you going to tell me what you found out, or do I have to read your mind?"

Dean shook his head. "God, I don't know what bug crawled up your ass, but I hope you get over it soon. You sure are grumpy."

Sam threw his arms up in disgust. "I wouldn't be grumpy if you didn't insist on playing this inane guessing game. It's not funny, especially since we have a job to do."

"All right, all right," Dean held his hands up in mock surrender. "Don't get your panties in a wad. God, you're worse than a PMS-ing woman."

"So help me God," Sam snarled. "If you don't knock off this bullshit, you'll be working this job alone."

Dean could tell that he had pushed Sam as far as he could at the time. "Fine," he huffed. "There was a young woman who was helping me at the newspaper office." Dean caught Sam rolling his eyes again but chose to ignore it as he continued with his story. "Anyways, when I struck out with the papers, I began to ask her questions, and you won't believe what she told me."

Dean related the story that Karen had told him. During that time, the waitress delivered their food. Sam began quietly eating while Dean took bites in between talking.

When Dean finished his story, Sam shook his head. "Is that all you have? Just some family tale about a long ago ancestor?"

Dean looked at Sam dumbfounded. "What do you mean 'is that all'? Don't you see? It all fits: the date, the revenge against Native Americans, the five year interval, deaths caused by traumatic blood loss?"

"That's if it's true." Sam countered.

"Why would Karen lie about it?" Dean asked. "What could she get out of it?"

Sam shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe she thought if she impressed you, she could get a date or two out of you."

"I don't think so," Dean replied. "She's got a boyfriend, and from how she talked, they sound pretty serious."

"Whatever," Sam mumbled.

Dean dropped his cheeseburger on his plate. "What the hell is your problem? I finally got what could be the big break in this case, and you act like I got all this out of a spaghetti western or something."

Sam sighed heavily. "I just wished that we had something to 'corroborate the story', as you put it. What happens if we burn this guy's bones, and the murders still continue?"

"Then we're right back where we were two days ago when we hit town," Dean snapped. He sighed as he tempered his voice. "Okay, maybe we can find something to support Karen's story."

"Like what?" Sam questioned. "We've already checked death records and the local newspaper. Where else do you think we can find information that far back?"

"God, you're just little Miss Sunshine today, aren't you? "Dean shrugged. "I don't know. The library, maybe? Some towns had town historians that recorded all the important dates. I would think an Indian attack would be recorded, or maybe it would have something on the Tillman family. We could also check adoption records. I'm sure the banker would have insisted on a formal adoption."

Sam nodded. "Maybe, we should check out the Tillman Bed and Breakfast. They could have more information on the Tillman family."

Dean shoved the last of his burger into his mouth. "That's a good idea. I'll do that this afternoon and then hit the library, and you can head back to the courthouse to check adoption records."

Sam shook his head. "I don't know what good that will do. If they lost the death records in the fire, they would have lost the adoption records too."

"Humor me," Dean said. "Maybe, they kept them in separate rooms, and they somehow survived."

"All right," Sam replied still shaking his head. "But don't hold your breath."

Dean stood from the table. "Can you pay the bill?" To which Sam nodded his head. "Okay, I'll meet you back at the hotel when I'm done. I just hope you're in a better mood by then." He then left before Sam could form a comeback.

The sun was setting by the time Dean returned to the hotel room. Sam scowled at him from behind his laptop. Dean could tell that Sam was still upset with him so he decided to try a different tactic. "Still playing on that thing or just looking up porn?"

Sam raised an eyebrow and turned his attention back to the computer.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked.

"I'm checking the news sites to see if hell froze over," Sam answered.

"Ha ha, very funny," Dean rolled his eyes. "Did you find out any more info?"

Sam sighed. "Well, as I figured, any adoption records for that time were lost in the fire. So I came back to do research on Indian activities during the early 1860s"

"Well," Sam began. "I found out that this area did have its share of raids, some large and some small, but they didn't give exact dates for most of them. What about you? Did you find anything?"

."I was able to scope out the family bible at the Tillman place," Dean answered, pulling a couple of pieces of paper from his pocket. "In it there was an entry for a 'Joshua Arthur Smith' born to Charles and Elizabeth Smith on March 18, 1857, and adopted by Zacharias and Adalaide Tillman on October 3, 1862."

"So, that fits our timeline," Sam interrupted.

"Yeah, it does," Dean replied.

"Did you find anything else? At the library?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "The closest that the library had to a town history from that time was a diary from the local post woman. Upon her death, she donated over 50 years worth of diaries."

"And one was for 1862?" Sam asked. "Did it mention anything about Joshua?"

Dean nodded. "There was one mention of Joshua and the Tillmans. I had the librarian photo copy the entry for me. I'll read you the important part.

 _December 20, 1862_

 _Tonight was the Tillman's annual Christmas Party. I know that there are some in town that refuse to come because they think that the Tillmans are just trying to lord their wealth over the rest of us, but I know better. I have come to know Adalaide through my employment at the post office. They truly realize how blessed they are especially during these turbulent times, and they truly want to share their good fortune with other_ _(s)_ _. This year they were even more extravagant than in previous ones. Adalaide said that they wanted to make this year special for young Joshua. I know that they meant well, but I do question the propriety of their thinking. Poor Joshua, my heart went out to the poor lad. After what he has endured this past year, they probably should have foregone the gaieties and celebrated the holidays quietly, and let Joshua acclimate to his new surroundings. The poor boy sat in a corner all night. He seemed terrified of all the people. He still has to use a wheelchair to move. Adalaide said that after the first of the new year, they will be taking him to a specialist in Chicago. They are confident that this new doctor will be able to help Joshua. I hope their faith is not misplaced."_

Dean stopped reading from the diary entry. "So, Sam, do you think this is enough corroboration?"

Sam sighed. "I guess it is. It's just sickening though how you just 'fell' into the information by hitting on a girl."

Dean grinned. "What can I say? You use your brain, and I use my charm."

Sam snorted. "So, 'Mr. Charm", if you're so good, do you know where we can find Joshua Arthur Smith Tillman?"

Dean sat up at the edge of the bed. "As a matter of fact, I do. Michelle, at the Tillman place, was kind enough to take me directly to old Joshua's grave." Dean stood up. "So, let's go get dinner, and then maybe have a beer or two before we head to the gravesite."

Sam closed his laptop. "Okay, sounds like a plan."

It was shortly after midnight, and Sam was working up a sweat digging up the grave of Joshua Tillman. "You're so proud that you broke this case. You should be the one down here digging," he grumbled.

"That's why you're down there." Dean, who was holding a light for Sam, laughed. "I've already done **my** share of the work. Now it's your turn."

Sam leaned against the dirt wall that he had created by his digging. "Well, I think that you're going to have to take over. I'm not feeling so good all of a sudden."

"Don't give me that." Dean shook his head. "I won't fall for the sympathy bit."

"I'm serious, Dean," Sam argued. "I really feel sick." He started to climb from the hole but was overcome by a wave of dizziness and fell back into the hole.

"Sam!" Dean called out in concern as he knelt next to the open grave.

"I'm all right," Sam replied as he regained his bearings. "I just overdid it with the digging."

"Well, I don't like it," Dean said as he helped Sam out of the grave. "Here, you hold the light, and I'll finish this."

"Okay," Sam said as he sat on the ground. He picked up the lantern and shined it into the hole for his brother.

Dean had just heard the first thunk of the shovel hitting the coffin when he heard Sam mutter "Oh, God," and the light disappeared. He turned and saw the light bobbing as Sam was struggling to his feet. He reached out and grabbed Sam's pant leg. "What's wrong, Sam?"

Sam turned back towards Dean. "I'm gonna…" Whatever else Sam was going to say was lost as he began to lose the contents of his stomach into the grave and, unfortunately, also on to his brother.

"Dammit, Sam!" Dean exclaimed as he scrambled out of the grave pulling his shirt off. He tried using the few clean spots to wipe his face and hair. "What is your problem?"

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam mumbled as he curled up on the ground. "I guess I'm not over the flu after all."

"That does it. I'm finding you a doctor." Dean climbed back in the grave and easily hacked an opening in the partially decayed coffin.

Sam shook his head. "I don't need a doctor. It's just the flu. Be reasonable. I've only been sick for two days."

Dean climbed out of the grave and grabbed the salt and lighter fluid from their bags. "That's just it, Sam. You never get sick." Dean threw a lighted matchbook onto the doused corpse. "Even the few times that you did get sick as a kid, you'd puke only once or twice."

"So, I'm getting old," Sam replied as he swung the bag over his shoulder. "Come on. Let's get going before someone spots the flames and calls the fire department."

"Don't try to change the subject, Sam," Dean argued as he picked up the shovel and followed Sam towards the car. "You're just going to make me say it. Aren't you?"

"Say what?" Sam asked in confusion.

Dean opened the trunk and dropped the shovel in while Sam threw the bag in. "That I'm worried about you. This 'be sick, get better, get sick again' routine has me concerned. It's weird for you. It's almost like a pregnant woman with morning sickness."

Sam rolled his eyes as he opened the car door. "Yeah, that's it, Dean. I'm having morning sickness."

"All the more reason that you should see a doctor, Samantha," Dean said as he started the impala.

Sam shook his head. "I'm not going to any doctor. I'm sure that I'll be feeling better soon. End of argument. Now, can we go? I'm tired and would like to get some sleep."

"We'll see." Dean mumbled as he put the car in gear and headed towards the hotel.

Dean awoke the next morning to the sound of Sam in the bathroom vomiting again. "So much for him getting better," Dean thought. "Somehow I have to convince him to go to a doctor."

Dean heard the shower turn on, and he waited impatiently for Sam to come out of the bathroom.

When Sam did exit the bathroom, he saw Dean watching him closely. "Good morning," he said in a rough voice. "How long have you been up?"

"Long enough," Dean answered. "When are you going to admit that you're sick and that you need to see a doctor?"

Sam spun to face Dean but had to close his eyes at the dizziness that hit him. He took a couple of deep breaths to ward it off. "I'll admit it when I ever get that sick."

"Fine suffer then," Dean responded grumpily. He stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. He stepped under the steamy spray of the shower and tried to organize his thoughts. He was really starting to get worried about Sam. This 'getting better just to relapse again' concerned him. Call it gut instinct, but this just seems to be more than a simple case of the flu. He just **had** to figure out a way to convince him to go to a doctor. When he finished his shower, he stepped into the other room to find Sam curled up on his bed watching a _Beverly Hillbillies_ rerun. Shaking his head, he said. "I'm going to breakfast. Are you coming with me?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't think so, but could you bring me some ginger ale when you come back?"

"I don't think they have ginger ale at the café," Dean replied.

"Probably not," Sam conceded. "But you could check out the carryout in the next block."

"All right, I'll see what I can find," Dean answered. "I'll be back in a while." He grabbed his coat and left the room.

About an hour later Dean returned. "Well, I found your ginger ale."

"Thank you," Sam said as he got up to get one of the plastic cups from the small table where the ice bucket and coffee pot sat.

"First things, first," Dean said as he reached into the bag and then tossed a box at Sam.

Sam caught the box by reflex. "What the hell?" he asked after reading the box. "This isn't funny."

"Well, we need to figure out what's wrong with you," Dean explained. "And since you don't want to go to a doctor..."

"But a pregnancy test?" Sam snorted. "What's next? A 'do-it-yourself' CAT scan kit?"

Dean smiled. "Not if that test is positive."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You've got to be kidding me."

Dean stared back at Sam. "Look, I can't shake this feeling in my gut that there is something really wrong with you. So, you have your choice. You either agree to go to a doctor, or you take that test." Dean was sure that Sam would be too embarrassed to take the pregnancy test that he would go to the doctor.

Sam, though, shocked Dean when he said. "Fine, I'll take the test."

"What?" Dean sputtered out.

Sam shook his head. "If it'll get you off my back about the doctor, I'll take the test, even though it's a waste of time.

Dean couldn't believe that his plan had backfired. "Fine," he snapped in disgust. "Be a good little princess and go pee on the stick."

"Hey, don't take it out on me," Sam snapped back. "This was **your** brilliant idea." He shut the bathroom door before Dean could respond.

While he waited for Sam to emerge from the bathroom, Dean slipped the six pack of beer he bought into the small hotel fridge. He then snatched up the bag of peanut M & Ms that he had also bought and flipped through the TV channels hoping to find something other than talk shows and soap operas. He finally settled on a rerun of _Dark Angel_. "Boy, that Jessica Alba is hot!" he thought. "And that guy Alex that she hangs out with…he's a riot, a smart-ass con man but who reluctantly comes through in the end." Dean shook his head smiling slightly. "Reminds me a bit of myself." Suddenly, he realized that Sam had been in the bathroom for a while. He got up and knocked on the door. "Come on, Sammy. What are you trying to do? Build the suspense?"

Dean heard the click as the door was unlocked, and it slowly opened. He immediately grew concerned when he saw Sam's ashen face. "Sam, what's wrong? Did you get sick again?" Dean asked.

Sam looked at Dean, fear and confusion radiating from his face. "It's positive," He barely whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"It's what?!" Dean asked in disbelief.

"You rigged this, right?" Sam waved the stick at Dean. "You did something so that it would register positive no matter what. This is all a joke. Tell me, Dean."

Dean shook his head. "I didn't do anything. I swear."

"Then what the hell…" Sam tried to make sense of the results. "It can't be. This is totally impossible."

"Wait a minute," Dean drawled. "Give that man the Oscar."

"Dean?" Sam asked in confusion.

"You! You rigged it," Dean went on. "God, I almost bought it. I didn't know you were such a good actor. Man, your face…priceless. I tell you."

"Dean, I didn't do anything," Sam protested.

"Yeah, right," Dean laughed. "I tried to shame you into going to the doctor, and you're paying me back. I can't believe I almost fell for it. Then blaming me…that was a stroke of genius."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sam interrupted.

"Yeah, right," Dean replied. "Sorry, but I'm not believing this."

"No, I'm serious, Dean," Sam said, raising his eyebrows. "I didn't do anything to this test. So, if you didn't, then…" His voice trailed off at the implication.

Dean was finally beginning to realize that this wasn't a prank. "I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that you aren't pranking me."

Sam met Dean's eyes. "No, Dean, I'm not pranking you."

The color drained from Dean's face as he saw the sincerity in Sam's eyes. "I'll be right back." He grabbed his keys from the table and headed to the door.

"Wait," Sam said. "Where are you going?"

"Just stay here," Dean ordered and left.

Sam began pacing around the room. His mind whirled trying to come up with a plausible reason for the positive test. He wanted to believe that Dean was playing a joke, but after seeing the look on Dean's face before he left, Sam knew better. He had no concept of time as he paced, lost in his thoughts. Suddenly, Dean was back, carrying another bag.

"Where in the hell have you been?" Sam angrily demanded.

"I went to the store…" Dean began only to be interrupted.

"Like that couldn't have waited," Sam continued his angry tirade. "First, you make me take this damn test, and then when I get this," He waved the test stick towards Dean. "You take off. I'm here trying to figure out what the hell is going on, and you're out on a beer run. I can't believe you, Dean. Don't you care about anyone other than yourself?"

"I do care!" Dean snapped back. "And I wasn't on a beer run. I went to the drug store instead of the carryout to get a different test."

Sam's eyes widened. "You want me to take another test? Are you crazy?"

Dean shrugged slightly. "Actually, I want you to take three more."

Sam shook his head. "NO! No freaking way am I taking another one of those damn tests. You can just forget it."

"Sam, you've got to," Dean argued. "You want to put your mind at ease that this one was just a faulty test. Don't you?"

"How can you be so sure that this one was faulty?" Sam asked.

Dean could hear the worry in Sam's voice. "It's gotta be faulty. You can't be pregnant, Sam. Men don't _GET_ pregnant."

Sam still had a worried look on his face. "But what if these ones are positive too?"

"They're not going to be," Dean tried to sound confident. "Just keep telling yourself that." He shoved the bag into Sam's hands. "Now, get going."

"But…" Sam tried to argue, but Dean cut him off.

"No buts," Dean said, his gaze softening. "Look, I don't know what we'll do if these _are_ positive. I guess we'll have to see if that happens. But it's not going to. The first one was just some weird fluke. Okay?"

Sam swallowed hard and nodded his head. "Okay," he replied, and he went into the bathroom. He came back out a couple of minutes later.

"Well?" Dean asked immediately.

Sam shook his head. "I don't know. It'll take a few minutes, but I couldn't stay in there waiting."

"Oh," Dean glanced at his watch as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He watched Sam carefully as he stood stiff backed looking out the window. He knew the first test had thrown Sam for a loop. Hell, it had thrown _him_ for a loop. The feeling that something was wrong with Sam, continued to grow. He couldn't help but wonder what would cause a man to test positive for pregnancy. Unfortunately, his medical knowledge was limited to taking aspirin for a fever and cough syrup for a cold. They really had been lucky that they had been generally healthy growing up.

Dean glanced at his watch again and saw that the time had elapsed. "It's time. You can go look."

Sam continued to look out the window. "I don't think I can."

"Do you want me to?" Dean asked.

Sam sighed. "I guess. Although, I'm not too sure that I really want to know."

"Well, no use putting it off." Dean said as he stood and went into the bathroom.

Sam waited nervously for Dean to check the tests. It was only a couple of seconds before he heard Dean exclaim: "Son of a bitch!" Sam closed his eyes as he fought against the tears that sprang to his eyes.

Dean exited the bathroom. "Sam…" He began.

"You don't have to say it, Dean," Sam interrupted. "They're positive."

Dean cursed himself for even buying that first test, but he asked Sam. "Will you finally admit that you need to see a doctor?"

Sam looked at Dean in horror. "There is NO WAY in hell that I'm going to go tell a doctor, or anyone else for that matter, that I even _TOOK_ a pregnancy test, let alone that it was positive."

Dean shook his head. "You don't have to tell them about the tests. Just tell the doctor about your 'flu-like' symptoms that won't go away. Let him take it from there."

Sam sat down on his bed and buried his face in his hands. "Oh God, what the hell is happening to me?"

"That's why you need to see a doctor," Dean answered. "To find out."

Sam sighed heavily. "Okay, how do you want to handle this?"

"What do you mean?" Dean replied.

"Well," Sam began. "In the past, if we couldn't ourselves up, we would go to the emergency room, but this doesn't really seem like an 'emergency room' type of thing. If I go in there complaining about the flu, they'll blow me off, especially since I'm not running a fever."

Dean nodded. "I see your point."

"So," Sam asked again. "How do we do this? Look up a name in the phone book? Go to a walk-in clinic?"

"How about I call Bobby and see if he knows a doctor that we can trust?" Dean offered.

"No!" Sam said in alarm. "Don't call Bobby. I don't want him to know about this."

"It's okay," Dean tried to give Sam a reassuring smile. "I'll only tell him that you have the flu. He won't know anymore than that."

"No," Sam shook his head. "This is Bobby you're talking about. He'll see right through the 'flu' story. He'll hear it in your voice."

"Oh no, he won't." Dean curled his lips in disbelief.

"Yes, he will." Sam was adamant. "You've heard him say it: 'Don't con a con man.' So, no, you can't call Bobby."

"How about Ellen?" Dean asked. "Maybe she knows someone. Can I call her?"

Sam nodded. "I guess Ellen in okay."

Dean dialed the number to the roadhouse, and Sam listened to his one side of the conversation.

"Hey, Ellen, it's Dean Winchester.'

"Yeah, it has been a while. How are thing going?"

"Good, that's good. How's Jo?"

"I see…"

"Well, yeah, I did call for a specific reason. I was wondering if you know of a good doctor."

"Yeah, Sam is sick."

"Well, we thought it was just the flu, but he can't seem to shake it."

"Uhm…it's just been a couple of days."

"It may not seem that long, but Sam is normally pretty healthy, so for him to be sick for this long…:

"Hunting related? No, I don't think its hunting related, but since we don't know what it is, I can't be completely certain."

"Hang on, let me write this down."

"Okay and he's where?"

"Right, got it. Thanks a lot, Ellen."

"Yeah, I'll tell him."

"Sure, you take care too."

"Yeah, bye, Ellen."

As soon as Dean hung up, Sam asked. "So, what did Ellen say?"

Dean looked at the piece of paper in his hand. "Well, she gave me the name of a doctor in Elk Point, South Dakota. His name is Dr. Brady Forester. He's making a name for himself among hunters. Apparently, he understands about what we do and the weird injuries that we get. Oh, and she said to tell you to get better soon."

"Elk point? How far is that from here?" Sam questioned.

Dean shrugged. "A little over an hour, maybe an hour and a half."

"Let's get going then." Sam grabbed his bag and threw in his few belongings that were still lying around the room. "The sooner we find out what's wrong, the sooner I'll get better."

Dean grabbed his own bag and began filling it. "All right then." He was glad that Sam was finally willing to see a doctor. Although, he did feel bad that Sam had to be scared into it. When he threw his last shirt in the bag, he said. "I'm ready."

The two brothers climbed into the impala and headed towards Elk Point. The first ten minutes of the drive was quiet. Sam stared out the window and nervously tapped his fingers against his knee.

"Do you want to stop and get something to eat?" Dean broke the silence.

"No, thanks, I'm not hungry," Sam replied.

Dean glanced over at Sam. "Are you sure? You haven't eaten anything yet today."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Sam nodded. "I don't think that I could eat anything right now." He went back to tapping his fingers.

Dean shook his head. "You know. We're going through Sioux Falls. If you're nervous about seeing this doctor, we could stop and talk to Bobby about him."

Sam looked at Dean in alarm. "No Bobby!" He exclaimed, but then forced himself to calm down. "I'd rather not see Bobby until we find out what is wrong. Is that too much to ask?"

"Okay, if that's what you want." Dean nodded, but he still felt a twinge of apprehension. Ever since their father had died, Bobby had been the one who they turned to when they had questions or problems. Dean felt a bit guilty keeping him out of the loop with this problem, but he also didn't want to upset Sam anymore than he was. So, Dean didn't push the point. Dean glanced over towards Sam. He was still staring out the window of the car. Dean sighed heavily and turned his attention back to the road. The rest of the drive to Elk Point was done in silence.

The next morning, Sam sat at the edge of the exam table. He idly flipped through an old People magazine. Unfortunately, his nerves kept him from really reading it. He closed the magazine with a disgusted sigh and glanced at his watch. It had been almost ten minutes since the nurse had left him alone after taking his vitals. He almost wished that he had made Dean come with him to the exam room. At least then he would have someone to talk to. He shifted his position on the bed and rolled his shoulders. He glanced at his watch again and inwardly groaned as time crawled along. He picked up the magazine and began to flip again. He had only gone a few pages when the door finally opened and a six foot African-American who appeared to be in his early forties, walked in.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Forester," the doctor said, extending his arm out to shake Sam's hand.

Sam shook the doctor's hand. "Sam Winchester."

The doctor sat on a rolling stool and opened Sam's file. "Okay, Mr. Winchester, it says here that you've been suffering from nausea and vomiting for four days."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, that's right."

"Have you been able to keep anything down in that time?" Dr. Forester asked.

Sam nodded. "Some, it's really weird. I'm sick first thing in the morning and then again in the late evening, but the rest of the day I'm okay and can eat some."

"I see." The doctor stood and placed his stethoscope in his ears. After listening to Sam's heart and lungs, he sat back down and made a couple of notes in the chart. He looked over the personal information sheet that Sam had filled out. "I also see that you didn't fill in your information sheet fully. It's missing your address and insurance information."

Sam shook his head. "I don't have any."

"Insurance? Or an address?" The doctor questioned.

"Either," Sam replied. "My brother and I are on a road trip, and I'll pay cash for this."

Dr. Forester raised an eyebrow and studied Sam for a moment. "You also marked that you got my name from Ellen Harvelle. How well do you know Ellen?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. My dad and her husband hunted together a few times. We've visited her at the roadhouse, and she's helped us with a couple of jobs."

The doctor gave Sam a knowing look. "And are you a hunter like your dad?"

Sam just nodded his head.

The doctor closed the file. "Okay, this is what we are going to do. I'm going to run some tests. The nurse will come and take some blood. Meanwhile, I want you to make a list of everything you have hunted, demons, ghost, whatever, and where you've hunted it in the past three to six months just in case it's pertinent."

"How long will these tests take?" Sam asked.

The doctor shrugged. It'll depend on what I find in the first series of tests. They'll be general ones like blood counts and such, but it'll give me an idea where to go from there."

"Can you send my brother in here?" Sam asked. "At least then I'll have someone to talk to."

"Sure, not a problem," the doctor replied as he left the room.

A couple minutes later Dean entered the room. "So, what did the doc say?"

"He wants to run some tests," Sam answered. "He also wants me to make a list of all the hunts we've been on lately."

"So, he thinks it may be job related?" Dean continued.

Sam shook his head. "He doesn't know, but he's keeping the possibility in mind."

The nurse entered the room before Dean could respond. "Well, Mr. Winchester, Dr. Forester has ordered a blood draw. Do you have a preference on which arm I use?"

"It doesn't matter." Sam held an arm out for her, and she began filling vials.

As the nurse began filling the third vial, Dean looked over her shoulder. "Geesh, how much blood are you taking?"

"Five vials," the nurse answered.

"Is that a lot?" Sam asked in concern.

The nurse shook her head. "No, not really, it just sounds like it." She finished filling the last vial and pulled the needle from Sam's arm and disposed of it. She then handed him a specimen cup. "The doctor also wants a urine sample. The bathroom is two doors down, and there is a small door in the wall that opens to a shelf. You can leave the sample on the shelf." She held up a clipboard. "Here's some paper and a pen for you to make the list for the doctor." She laid it next to him. "I'll come back later to get it."

Sam nodded. "Okay, thanks." Sam took care of the sample and then he and Dean made the list together.

The nurse returned a short time later to get the list. She gave Sam a reassuring smile. "I'll give this to the doctor." Then she left again. Quiet conversation flowed between the two brothers while they waited for the doctor to return.

It was about an hour before the doctor came back to the room. "Well, Mr. Winchester, I believe that I have found your problem."

"Great," Sam replied. "So, what is it? An infection? A virus?"

Dr. Forester glanced over towards Dean and then looked back at Sam. "You may want to hear this in private."

Dean and Sam exchanged concerned looks. Sam shook his head. "No, I want Dean to hear this, especially if it's…" His voice trailed off as his mind refused to acknowledge the realistic possibility of bad news from the doctor.

The doctor nodded. "Okay, if that's what you want." He cleared his throat. "This is going to come as a shock, but given the things you've seen in your line of work, it shouldn't be too unbelievable."

"Doc, you're kind of scaring me here," Sam said while Dean took up a protective stance near Sam.

"Sorry," the doctor replied. "Normally, congratulations would go along with this statement, but given the circumstances, it's not appropriate. Sam, you're pregnant."

A roaring sound filled Sam's ears, and his vision began to gray. He could hear Dean talking, but he couldn't make out what he was saying.

Dean saw Sam pale and began to fall to one side. "Whoa, there big guy," he grabbed Sam and tried to hold him up. "Come on, breathe."

The doctor grabbed Sam from the other side. "Let's lay him down." Once they had Sam stretched out, the doctor grabbed a couple of small pillows from the supply cabinet and placed them under Sam's legs. He then took Sam's pulse.

"Is he okay?" Dean demanded.

"His pulse is a little fast," the doctor answered. "But I think it's just shock."

"Dean," Sam called out weakly.

Dean placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'm right here for you, Bro."

"Did he really say that?" Sam asked. "I'm really pregnant?"

"Don't worry about that right now," Dean told Sam while shooting the doctor a dirty look. "I'm sure that the doctor was just trying to be funny."

"But, after…" Sam began.

"I know. I know," Dean interrupted. "It wasn't funny at all, but you can't be pregnant. Men _DON'T_ get pregnant."

The doctor shook his head. "I wish I could say that it was a joke, but it's not. In your line of work, you've seen lots of things that most people would say is impossible. Trust me when I say this is possible, _AND_ it is happening."

Sam tried to sit up, but Dean held him down. "You'd better stay there. I don't want you passing out again."

Sam pushed Dean's hand off his chest. "I didn't 'pass out'. I just got a little lightheaded, but I'm fine now."

Dean shook his head. "You sure gave a good impression of passing out."

Sam gave Dean a disgusted look as he succeeded in sitting up. "Oh shut up." He turned his attention towards the doctor and rambled. "So, how could this happen? To a man? To me? God, this has to be a dream."

The doctor sat back down. "Tell me about the trickster that you dealt with."

"The trickster?" Sam shrugged. "There's not much to tell. He was terrorizing a college campus. "

"He caused all kinds of chaos before we finally managed to off him," Dean interrupted.

"Well, if you hadn't been 'Mr. Attitude'…" Sam muttered under his breath.

"What did you say?" Dean asked snottily.

Sam shook his head. "Nothing."

The doctor pretended to check the chart as he fought the urge to roll his eyes at the bickering brothers. "You said that this trickster was terrorizing a college campus. How?"

The two brothers exchanged amused looks. In the course of their bickering, they had gotten side tracked in their explanation. Dean spoke up. "He was a fan of the World Weekly News, and he was making the stories come true, like a ghost throwing a guy out the window or an alien abduction story."

"Don't forget about the crocodile in the sewer," Sam added.

The doctor nodded his head. "So, the idea of a man giving birth would be right up his alley?"

Sam's shoulders slumped. "Yeah, I guess it would be."

"So, you're saying that he impregnated Sam before we killed him?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"What makes you so sure that you killed it?" Dr. Forester countered.

Dean rolled his eyes at the doctor. "I think the wooden stack sticking out of his chest was a dead giveaway."

The doctor just gave Dean a disbelieving look.

"Look, I was there! Okay?" Dean replied, a bit put out that the doctor was even questioning him. "I _SAW_ the dead body. We both did."

The doctor sighed. "But did you double check the body? How can you be so sure that it wasn't another trick on his part?"

"Does it really matter?" Sam snapped. "I'm pregnant. Whether he's dead or not isn't going to change that."

"No, it won't change that, but it would give me a time frame to work from." The doctor consulted Sam's list. "According to this, you dealt with the trickster 4 ½ months ago. So, we know that is the furthest along you are, but if he wasn't really dead, you could have run into him since and not even know it. I'll have to run an ultrasound to determine the gestation age. Then we'll have to discuss your options."

"Options?" Dean shook his head. "There's only _one_ option. Men _don't_ have babies. You have to get this thing, whatever it is, out of Sam."

"I will if that is Sam's choice," the doctor replied.

"Of course it's Sam's choice." Dean looked at Sam. "Tell him, Sam."

Sam fiddled with a stray thread on his jeans. "I don't know, Dean. It's a lot to think about."

"What's there to think about?" Dean argued. "You get rid of it, and we get back to our lives."

Sam looked away from Dean. "It's not that simple. This baby…"

"Baby?" Dean interrupted. "You don't know that it's a real baby. Knowing the trickster, it's probably a devil child with horns and a pointed tail."

"You don't…" Sam began only to be cut off again.

"And what about you," Dean continued his argument. "How do we know that you can safely carry a baby?"

"I have delivered a baby safely from a man," the doctor interjected.

Dean gave the doctor a disgusted look. "You're not helping here."

"You mean I'm not helping _you_ ," Dr. Forester replied in a sarcastic tone of his own. "Sam is my patient, and it's my responsibility to present him with all the available options and then abide by his decision, not yours."

"This is my brother, damn it," Dean declared angrily. "I know him better than anyone."

"Dean, shut up!" Sam exploded. "I _want_ to know my options. _This_ is _not_ cut and dry. If you can't respect that, then get out."

"Fine," Dean leaned against the door. "Get your options, but I know what you'll choose."

Sam turned back to the doctor. "So, what _are_ my options?"

"We really need to do an ultrasound before we discuss what you want to do," the doctor replied. "I need to see where the fetus is attached at."

"Okay, so when do you want to do that?" Sam asked nervously.

The doctor stood. "I'm already slightly behind, and I have a full schedule until four this afternoon. Come back at five, and I'll run the scan then."

Sam slid off the exam table. "I'll be back. Thanks, Doc."

As the two brothers left the doctor's office, Dean asked. "So, what are we going to do until five?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know what you are going to do, but I'm going to take a walk, _alone_ , and think about all this."

Dean nodded. He could understand that Sam was upset. If the situation were reverse, he'd be freaked. Of course, if the situation were reversed, he'd be terminating the pregnancy. There'd be no thinking about it. Dean nodded. "Okay, I'll be at the hotel if you want to talk."

Sam just nodded and walked away.

Later that day, Sam was back on the exam table, and the doctor ran the ultrasound wand over Sam's stomach area, while Dean sat next to the table.

"I've found the fetus. Do you want to see it?" The doctor asked Sam. Sam swallowed hard and nodded. The doctor turned the screen so that the two brothers could see. He began pointing out features. "Here is the head, and the eyes. They're a little hard to make out from this angle, but the nose and mouth are in this area. You can see the chest moving with the heartbeat. Here are the arms and legs."

Sam was mesmerized by the moving picture on the screen. "Can you tell if it's a boy or girl yet?" He asked.

The doctor shook his head. "Not from this angle. Besides, at this stage it's usually just a guess anyways."

"Can you tell if it's normal?" Dean asked.

"Dean," Sam sneered.

Dean held his hands up. "Hey, I just want to make sure that you have all the info before you decide."

The doctor turned off the ultrasound machine and handed Sam a towel to wipe his abdomen. "From what I can see, it is a normal, healthy eleven-week old fetus."

"Eleven-weeks?" Sam asked dumbfounded.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean declared. "That bastard is still alive."

"I would say that's true," the doctor replied.

Sam sat up on the table. "So, about my options?"

The doctor nodded. "Well, you basically have two viable options: have the baby or terminate it. Either way, it will require surgery."

"But it would be safe for me to have the baby?" Sam pressed.

The doctor ran a hand over his face. "It's complicated. The placenta placement is about as good as can be hoped for, but a man's body is _not_ designed to carry a baby. Complications can arise at any time."

Dean stiffened. "What kind of complications?"

"Well," the doctor explained although ht kept his comments focused towards Sam, not Dean. "As the baby grows, it will put pressure on the internal organs. From the placement, the stomach and intestines will bear the brunt of the pressure. As you get further in the pregnancy, you'll have to eat smaller meals more often to keep the nutritional levels up. Plus, I'll be watching for signs of intestinal blockage. There will also probably be pressure on the kidneys, bladder, and even on the lungs."

Sam nodded. "I can handle that."

"But that's not all," the doctor continued. "The baby itself could have complications. It has an amniotic sac, but it doesn't have the protection of a uterus. There's the possibility that it could leak or rupture all together which obviously, neither option would be good for the baby. My biggest concern, though, is placental abruption. If the placenta tears, there's a possibility that both you and the baby could bleed to death."

"It's too risky," Dean told Sam. "There's too many complications. You can't risk your life."

Sam looked at Dr. Forester. "You said that you've delivered a baby from a man before. Did he have all these problems?"

The doctor shook his head. "The only problem he experienced was pressure on his stomach, and he experienced a severe backache that came and went depending on how the baby was laying. His cesarean went just as expected. I told you what _could_ happen so you can make an informed decision, but it doesn't mean that they _will_ happen."

"Sam, you really can't be thinking of doing this," Dean tried to argue. "Can you imagine what our lives will be like for the next six months? Hell, what it will be like for years? You can't hunt with a baby."

"Dad did," Sam replied.

Dean shook his head. "Dad had a small support group that he trusted to leave us with, like Father Jim or Bobby. Then when I got old enough, we stayed alone. We don't have that option."

"What about Bobby? Or Ellen? Or Jo?" Sam counted names off on his fingers.

Dean rolled his eyes. "I can't believe this. _We_ are _not_ cut out to raise a kid. It's not like we had a normal childhood to draw from."

"This may be my only chance to have a child," Sam argued back.

"You never know," Dean replied. "You could meet a nice girl and have a baby the right way."

Sam snorted in disbelief. "Oh yeah, like we have all this spare time to date girls. Besides, after Jess, I'm not sure that I want to get serious with a girl or anyone ever again."

Dean rolled his eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you that what happened to Jess wasn't your fault?"

"Who's Jess?" The doctor questioned.

Sam shook his head. "I'd rather not talk about her."

"Look, Sam," the doctor said. "You're mental health is just as important as your physical health. So, if there's something about this Jess that is upsetting you, I need to know about it."

"Jess was my girlfriend," Sam began, but he suddenly found himself battling tears. "I thought we would be together forever." Sam ducked his head to try to hide his emotions.

Dean picked up the story for Sam. "Jess was killed by a demon a while back."

"It wasn't just _a demon_ ," Sam snapped. "It was the _yellow-eyed_ demon. The _same_ yellow-eyed demon that killed our mother when I was a baby! The _same_ demon that had something to with dad's death. The _same_ damn demon that is terrorizing me and 'children' like me with visions and strange powers. It was because of _me_ that he went after Jess, and I wasn't there to protect her. Hell, I didn't even warn her so that she could be on her guard. I had those visions that she would die, and I did _nothing_! It _was my_ fault, all my fault." Sam buried his face in his hands and sobbed.

Dean placed a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder but gave the doctor a helpless look.

The doctor moved closer to Sam and placed a hand on his knee. "Go ahead and let it out. You're emotions are being overwhelmed by raging female hormones. This is totally normal."

Sam's crying only lasted a few minutes. He wiped the remaining tears away. "I'm sorry. I can't believe I lost it like that."

"All the more reason for you to terminate the pregnancy," Dean said.

"No," Sam answered quietly.

"What did you say?" Dean demanded.

Sam stared down at his fingers. "I don't want to terminate the pregnancy."

Dean's eyes widened in shock. "I can't believe this." He turned towards the doctor. "Tell him that this is crazy. Tell him that this is too dangerous. He can't do it."

The doctor shook his head. "I've already given him a list of possible complications, and I've already told him that I have successfully delivered a child from a male pregnancy. It is now his decision. It is his body. Only he can decide if the benefits outweigh the risks. I won't pressure him either way."

"But…" Dean began to argue.

Sam cut him off. "No buts, Dean. I've given this a lot of thought. Unless my death becomes a certainty, I want to do this. I hope you can respect my decision."

"It's not that I don't respect you, Sam," Dean replied. "I just don't understand. Men having babies…it's just so unnatural. Plus, with our jobs…"

"If you go through with the pregnancy," the doctor interrupted. "You will have to stop hunting immediately. That would be too dangerous in your condition."

"See," Dean continued his argument. "You can't work, and I can't do it alone."

"Sure you can," Sam countered. "You and dad used to go on separate hunts before. This is no different."

"It is too different," Dean replied.

"How so?" Sam challenged.

Dean shook his head and snapped. "Damn it, Sam, I don't know, but it just is."

"Well, I've made my decision," Sam replied in an equally peeved tone. "And unless something changes, you'll just have to live with it."

"Live with it?" Dean asked in disbelief. "You're risking your life for a baby that may or may not be human, and you think that I can just 'live with it'? Well, I _can't_! Now, I need a walk. I'll meet you back at the hotel." Dean stomped angrily out of the room.

"Dean, come back," Sam called to his brother. Dean, though, ignored him. Sam turned back towards the doctor. "Maybe Dean's right. Having a baby would really complicate things. Maybe I should think about it some more."

The doctor shook his head. "Rethinking a difficult decision is never a bad thing, but I must caution you not to base your decision on how your brother feels. This can only be _your_ decision. If you want this baby, and as long as you stay healthy, I will support you. It has to be what _you_ want. Although if you opt to go through with it, there will be some rules that I will expect you to follow. I am confident that you can do this as long as we work together."

"Like what kind of rules?" Sam asked.

"Well, like I said before, you will have to stop hunting immediately," the doctor explained. "You've been lucky so far that you haven't miscarried. Plus, I will want you to find a place here in town to stay until at least six weeks after delivery. I want you close by in case any complications arise. I will want to see you twice a week and I will probably run an ultrasound once a week. There will be plenty of blood tests over the course of the next six months. I'm sure that I'll be adding more rules as the gestation time progresses. Can you handle working closely with me on such a personal matter?"

Sam hung his head. "That's a lot of rules. I really should think about it some more. Can I have another day?"

The doctor nodded. "I'll tell you what. How about we set an appointment for Monday morning? That'll give you the whole weekend to think about it."

"That sounds good," Sam replied. "Although the extra time probably won't make the decision any easier."

The doctor shook his head. "I'm sure you're right. Do you have a way back to your hotel?"

Sam stood up from the table. "Well, Dean has the keys to the car, but the hotel isn't that far. I can walk, unless you think that is bad for me."

"Actually, walking is about the only exercise that you should be doing right now," the doctor replied.

They set up an appointment for Monday morning, and Sam left the office with a simple. "I'll see you then, Doc."


	3. Chapter 3

Sam paced around the hotel room. It was after eleven and there was still no sign of Dean. On his way home from the doctor's office, he had stopped at the local library and picked up some books on pregnancy. He knew that it would be different for him, but at least he wanted to be as prepared as he could. He really knew nothing about pregnancy and how it affected a body. If he was going to convince Dean that it was going to be okay, he needed to least seem a bit knowledgeable on what to expect. Unfortunately, after flipping through the books, he was feeling overwhelmed so he just set the books aside.

He also slipped into a carryout and picked up some sandwich fixings and some milk for himself and some beer for Dean. Sam had hoped that a couple of beers would relax Dean enough so that they could have a civilized conversation about the baby. Sam debated about going out and looking for Dean, but he knew that his brother would only ridicule him, calling him a "mother hen" in more ways than one. He took one more look out the window and sighed, letting the curtain fall back into place. He gave up watching and stretched out on his bed. Placing a hand over his still flat abdomen, he fell asleep thinking about the baby.

Sam was startled awake by a bang on the door. He could hear someone fiddling with the lock. He slipped out of bed and grabbed his gun and cocked it. The noise at the door continued. It sounded like someone was trying to pick the lock and doing a poor job at it. Sam barely moved the curtain to view the outside of the door. He rolled his eyes as he slipped the safety back on to his gun. He yanked the door open, and his brother fell forward landing on his hands and knees.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing?" Sam demanded.

"Key winnot wort," Dean slurred as he stumbled to his feet.

Sam stared at him in undisguised surprise. "My God, are you drunk?"

"Of corsh not," Dean tried to sound indignant.

Sam tried to hold in his laughter. "You are too. I can't believe it."

Dean threw himself across the nearest bed, which happened to be the one that Sam had been lying on. "Show wha I am?" He slurred as his eyes drifted closed.

Sam shrugged. "I've just never seen you this wasted. You've always held your liquor better. How much did you drink anyways?"

Dean sighed deeply. "Don know or stare."

Sam shook his head. "If I live to be a hundred, I will _never_ forget this day. _**Dean Winchester is drunk!**_ "

"Sud up," Dean replied. He cocked one eye open. "Is late…why you'd still up?"

"I was waiting for you, you dumb ass," Sam answered. "I was hoping to talk to you."

Dean rolled over. "Otay…talk."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Not tonight…not while you're like this. Go to sleep. We can talk in the morning."

"Don't ell me wat to do," Dean groused. "I give s'orders."

"Yeah, right," Sam muttered as he turned off the light and settled into his bed. He laughed into the dark when he heard Dean snoring.

The next morning, Sam woke to the sound of the shower running. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was just shy of seven o'clock. Sam opened his laptop and checked his email while he waited for Dean to exit the bathroom. When he finally did, Sam grinned widely. "Good morning, Dean."

Dean gave Sam a wary look. "Good morning."

"How are you feeling this morning?" Sam asked.

"I'm fine," Dean replied. "What's with you?"

Sam laughed lightly. "Well, after last night, I just thought you might be feeling a little rough."

Dean shook his head. "Nope, I'm fine."

"No headache? Nauseous?" Sam asked in disbelief. "No need for a greasy pork sandwich in a dirty ashtray?"

It finally dawned on Dean what Sam was getting at. He couldn't help but laugh at the memory of Sam hanging his head over the toilet after getting drunk at the haunted hotel, and he only made it worse by throwing out the suggestion of a greasy pork sandwich served in a dirty ashtray. He couldn't help himself by teasing. "I may have a pork sandwich for lunch, but for breakfast, I think I'll have some scrambled eggs and toast with a side of both bacon and sausage with a big mound of fried potatoes. Then I'll wash it all down with a steaming cup of coffee." Dean laughed even harder when Sam blanched and bolted for the bathroom. He felt a twinge of remorse when he heard Sam heaving.

Sam gave Dean a dirty look when he left the bathroom. "I hate you."

Dean shook his head and laughed again. "I've heard that before."

Sam crossed to the bed. "This is so not fair. You go out and get yourself plastered last night, and I'm the one puking this morning."

Dean shrugged. "So, I don't suffer hangovers. Sue me. Besides, I'm not the one who's pregnant."

"Speaking of that," Sam began. "We need to talk about the baby…a calm, rational discussion. I don't want any yelling or name calling. I know this won't make any sense since yesterday I told you it was my body and my decision, but I need your understanding and more importantly, your support."

"What if I can't?" Dean asked. "What if I can't understand?"

"Then just give me your support," Sam answered quietly. "No matter what happens with the baby."

"What do you mean by that?" Dean became alarmed. "Did something happen after I left yesterday?"

"No…well, yes…no, not really," Sam stammered.

"Sam!" Dean interrupted. "Start making sense."

Sam shook his head. "There's nothing wrong with the baby, but the doctor gave me a few more things to think about."

"Like what?" Dean asked.

Sam sighed. "Well, not only do I have to give up hunting, but I will have to stay here in Elk Point. There's going to be a lot of appointments and tests, plus who knows how many more rules he'll come up with as this pregnancy plays out." Gesturing towards the stack of books from the library, he continued. "Plus, trying to make heads or tails of this stuff…"

"And all this stuff has made you rethink your decision?" Dean questioned barely daring to hope that Sam had changed his mind.

Sam shook his head. "It's not necessarily that stuff that has caused me to question my decision."

"But you are questioning your decision?" When Dean saw Sam nod his head, he continued. "Then what _did_ make you question your decision?"

"It was…I mean…I wanted…" Sam began rambling again.

"Sam, you're not making sense again," Dean interjected. "Whatever it is just spit it out."

"Okay, fine, I'll spit it out." Sam glared at Dean for a moment but then dropped his gaze to the floor. "It was you. It was your reaction that is making me question this. There, I said it. Happy now?" Sam stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

Dean was stunned at the sudden turn of events. He went to the door and knocked on it. "Sam? Sam. What's going on?"

"Go away, Dean," Sam's muffled voice came through the door.

Dean shook his head. "Come on. I thought you wanted to talk."

"I can't talk to you right now," Sam replied.

Even through the door, Dean could tell that Sam was crying. Dean always hated being around people who cried. He was never sure how to react. "You know, you're being pretty confusing right now. You're flip-flopping awfully fast here. First, you want to talk, and now you don't. How am I supposed to deal with that? I mean…"

Dean's speech was interrupted by the sound of something breaking. Dean pounded on the door. "Sam? What was that? Are you okay? Sam? Answer me!"

"Dean…it hurts." Sam's voice was so weak that Dean barely heard it through the door.

Dean tried to open the door but found it locked. "Sam, the door's locked. You have to let me in."

"I can't. Help me, Dean. Please, help me!" Sam cried.

"Are you away from the door?" Dean yelled.

"Yes, Dean," Sam answered. "Hurry!"

Dean reared back and kicked the door in. "Sam!" He yelled as he took in the room. Sam sat on the toilet seat, hunched over grasping his abdomen. Dean felt a moment of panic when he was hit by an overwhelming odor, but relaxed a bit when he realized that it was just his own bottle of aftershave which was lying shattered on the floor. He grabbed a towel off the rack and used it to push the broken glass and liquid out of the middle of the floor. He knelt in front of Sam and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Sam, what happened?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know. It just started hurting really bad." He met Dean's look with fear radiating from his eyes. "Do you think I'm losing the baby?"

Dean couldn't help but worry for his brother. "I have no idea, but I'm taking you back to Dr. Forester."

Dean helped move Sam out of the bathroom and sat him on the bed and helped slip some shoes on his feet. He dialed the doctor's number while he slipped his own clothes on. "Yes, I need to speak to Dr. Forester…What? ...I don't care if he doesn't have office hours today. This is an emergency…Fine, my name is Dean Winchester. My brother, Sam, is in a lot of pain…Yes, it came on suddenly…Okay, yes, my number is 555-0922…Thank you." He flipped his phone closed.

"What was that about?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "The office is closed. That was his answering service. He's supposed to call us back. Come on. Let's go."

Sam groaned. "Go where? If he's not at the office…"

"I'll make sure that he meets us there," Dean said. "Even if I have to hunt him down and hog-tie him."

Dean and Sam made their way to the car. Once Sam was settled, Dean rounded the car to get to the driver's side when his phone rang. "Hello," he snapped into it. "Dr. Forester…Yeah, Sam's in a lot of pain. He thinks he's losing the baby…Okay, we're on our way."

Dean closed his phone as he climbed behind the wheel. "That was the doctor. He's going to meet us at the office."

"Good," Sam replied. "Does he think I'm losing the baby?"

Dean shook his head. "He didn't say. He just said to get you to the office."

Sam brushed away some tears. "He knows…just like I know."

Dean's only reply was to gun the Impala.

Dean paced around the empty waiting room. He felt helpless. He had wanted to stay with Sam, but the doctor was adamant. Once he had helped Sam into a gown and settled in the exam room, the doctor insisted that he leave the room. He kept thinking about the look on Sam's face when he said he thought he was losing the baby. For the first time, he stopped to look at the situation from Sam's point of view. He suddenly realized that this wasn't a passing fancy, but that this baby meant a great deal to Sam. He also realized that Sam was willing to give the abortion option a second thought because of him. Guilt began to eat at him. How could he have been so insensitive? He threw himself into one of the chairs and slouched down. He sighed heavily as he desperately hoped to get the chance to make thing right with his brother.

Once Dean had left the exam room, the doctor started asking questions as he set up the ultrasound machine. "When did the pain start?"

"About ten, maybe fifteen minutes ago," Sam answered.

"Is it a sharp, stabbing pain, or more of an intense ache?" The doctor continued.

"It was a real sharp pain when if first hit me. It was so bad that I had to sit down. I even knocked over Dean's shaving kit as I tried to get to the toilet to sit down. As time has gone by, the sharpness has decreased some. Now, it's more achy," Sam explained.

The doctor nodded. "On a scale from one to ten, with ten being the worst, how bad was the pain when it first hit, and how bad is it now?"

"It was definitely a ten when it first hit," Sam began. "But now it's probably a seven or seven and a half."

The doctor squirted some gel onto Sam's abdomen. "You said you were in the bathroom when the pain hit. What were you doing?"

Sam brushed at the tears that slipped from his eyes. "I was hiding my tears from Dean."

"So, Dean was after you again about getting rid of the baby?" The doctor asked.

"Not really," Sam answered. "We were discussing it, but he wasn't being nasty about it. I still got upset though. The idea of terminating this pregnancy…well, I guess I don't have to worry about that now."

"Let's take a look before we get too morose." The doctor moved the wand over the area that he had found the baby before.

"You think there's a possibility that I haven't lost the baby?" Sam asked.

The doctor studied the monitor which he had turned away from Sam. After a few moments, he broke into a smile. "I can say with certainty that you haven't lost the baby." The doctor turned the monitor so that Sam could see it.

Sam was amazed to see the baby moving on the screen. "But I was so sure," he mumbled. Still watching the screen, he asked the doctor. "Then what caused the pain?"

The doctor turned off the ultrasound and wiped the gel off of Sam's stomach. "I'm sure that it was a result of your body trying to adjust to being pregnant. Remember, a male body is not designed to carry a baby. The change in hormones, the provision of nutrients to the baby, or even just the presence of the baby, even though it is still very small, could have caused the cramping."

Sam nodded. "So, will I have this through the entire pregnancy?"

"It's hard to tell," the doctor answered. "I'm not saying that you being a man is the only possible reason for this. There are some women who experience severe cramping in their first trimester. In some cases, it's a precursor to a problem, and in other cases, it doesn't mean anything. Don't worry. I'll be keeping an eye out for potential problems."

"So, I'm okay?" Sam asked.

Dr. Forester updated the chart. "Things are looking good at this point, but I want to keep you here until the pain goes away."

Sam nodded. "I guess I should let Dean know what is going on. It's not going to be easy. I still have to make a difficult decision, a decision that could change both our lives."

The doctor sighed. "I will be the first to admit that I don't know you or your bother that well, but from what little I've seen your bother likes to have things his way. In this case though, he can't call the shots. I know I said it before, but you can't let him bully you into something that you don't want to do. I sense that you want this baby, but if _you_ decide that terminating the pregnancy is the right course of action, I will respect that also. I just want to make sure that it is your decision. You're my patient and therefore my priority. Can you understand that?"

Sam nodded. "I do understand, and you're right. There is a part of me that really wants this baby, but Dean is also right. A baby would mean huge changes. Can I justify those changes to myself?"

"I wish I could give you an easy answer," the doctor said. "But there isn't one. I just don't want to see you unduly influenced by your brother."

"I won't," Sam replied. "I'll weigh his concerns, but the final decision will be mine."

The doctor nodded. "Okay, I'll go get your brother for you. You just relax."

Sam returned the nod. "Thanks."

Dr. Forester returned to the waiting room. Dean sat in one of the chairs. He was leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor.

"Dean," the doctor called to him.

Dean was instantly on his feet. "How's Sam? Is he okay?" Dean asked in a rush.

Dr. Forester nodded his head. "He's okay for right now. I want to keep him here for a while just to keep an eye on him."

Dean sighed in relief. "Can I see him?"

"That's why I came to get you," the doctor answered. "The only thing is I don't want you to upset Sam. It's not good for him."

A guilty look crossed Dean's face. "I won't. I promise."

"Good, Sam's still in the exam room," the doctor replied.

"Thanks." Dean moved past the doctor and down the hall. He paused for a moment outside and took a deep breath to compose himself. He quietly entered the room. "Hey, Sam," Dena said.

Sam turned to face Dean. "Hey, Dean, did the doctor talk to you?"

Dean looked at the floor and nodded. "Yeah, he did."

Sam began to fiddle with the blanket that covered him. "We need to talk."

"Yeah, we do," Dean replied as he moved the chair closer to Sam's bed and sat down. "But let me go first."

Sam gave Dean a wary look but nodded.

Dean cleared his throat and began speaking, although he didn't look Sam in the face. "When we were driving here, I saw the look on you face, and I suddenly realized how much the baby meant to you. I'm sorry that I was acting like such a jerk about it. I should have never pushed you to terminate the pregnancy. It wasn't my place. You were right. We could've worked out any 'babysitting' conflicts. If I could go back, I'd change how I treated you. You're going to make a great dad someday. I'm just sorry that it's not going to be now."

Sam gave Dean a confused look. "Just what did the doctor tell you?"

Dean looked up at Sam. "Well, he said that you were going to be okay, but that you had to stay for a while, and that I wasn't to upset you."

Sam gave Dean a faint smile. "Dean, I'm still pregnant."

Now it was Dean's turn to look confused. "What?"

"I didn't lose the baby," Sam replied. "I'm still pregnant."

"But…but…the pain…you were so sure," Dean sputtered.

Sam laughed lightly. It was unusual to see Dean at a loss for words. It only lasted a few moments before Dean got indignant.

"I'm glad that you find this funny," Dean huffed. "Does he know why you were in so much pain?"

Sam shrugged. "He thinks that it was just a bodily reaction to being pregnant."

"Because you're a man?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "He couldn't say for sure. My gender could be playing a part in it or maybe not. The doctor says that some women have bad cramps during their pregnancies."

"So the baby is okay and everything?" Dean tried to make sense of what Sam was saying.

Sam nodded. "He did another ultrasound and everything still looks good."

"So…" Dean slowly began. "When you said you wanted to talk, it was about the baby. Right?"

"Right," Sam sighed. He really wasn't sure what to make of Dean's contrite attitude. "Did you mean what you said earlier?"

Dean picked at some imaginary lint on his jeans. "Yeah, I did. I may not understand or even agree with it, but since it means so much to you, I'll deal with it."

"Thanks, Dean," Sam said. "I know that this doesn't make sense to you. I don't know if I really understand it myself. All I know is that even though I didn't ask for this…hell, I didn't do anything to _cause_ this…I feel this intense connection to this baby. I know that the pregnancy will be challenging, but I want to do it. I _need_ to do it."

"Then we'll do it," Dean told him. "We'll find a place here in town, and I'll find jobs that I can do by myself for awhile and that are within driving distance."

"Really? You'll do that for me?" Sam asked in astonishment.

"Of course, I'd do it," Dean answered. "You're my brother. This is important to you, so it's important to me."

Sam's eyes filled with tears. "You'll never know how much that means to me."

Dean smirked slightly. "Just remember, I get the fun job of being 'Uncle Dean'."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Great, just what I need, you as a role model."

Sam felt the weight lift off him. The decision had been made, and he had his brother's support. The first big hurdle had been cleared. He finally felt like he could relax for the first time since he took that damn pregnancy test. The two brothers fell into an easy conversation while the doctor came in and out of the room to monitor Sam's condition.

Not quite four hours later, Dr. Forester came in for the last time. "Well, Sam, it's been an hour since your cramping has subsided. I think it would be okay to let you head home."

Dean smiled. "That's great news, isn't it, Sam?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, it is. Thanks, doc. I'm sorry to have made you come in on your day off."

"That's my job," the doctor replied. "Don't worry about it. Now, I want you to stay off your feet for the rest of the day. Tomorrow, you can do _light_ activities as long as you feel up to it."

"Is there anything that he shouldn't do?" Dean asked.

The doctor was taken aback slightly at this perceived sudden interest. He looked at Sam who just shrugged. Turning back towards Dean, he said. "I don't have a set list, but basically, he needs to avoid activities that could cause abdominal strain or injury. Without a uterus, the baby doesn't have as much protection as it should. Other than that, it should be up to Sam to set his own pace."

Sam nodded. "Sounds good to me. Hand me my clothes so we can get out of here."

"There's one more thing," the doctor interjected.

Dean and Sam paused and looked at the doctor.

The doctor continued. "Just because the pain this time was just cramping, I don't want you to assume that's what it is if it happens again. I want to check you out anytime you experience that kind of pain. I'll leave word with my receptionist and answering service to give you top priority when you call."

Sam nodded. "Thanks, again. I hope that this won't happen again."

"I hope so too," the doctor replied. "But I've learned over the years to hope for the best, but plan for the worst. Now, go ahead and get out of here."

Dean followed the doctor out of the room while Sam got dressed. "I want to thank you for what you've done for Sam," he addressed the doctor.

Dr. Forester gave him a look of unbelief. "Tell me something, Dean. Why the sudden change of heart. Yesterday, you were dead set against Sam having the baby, but now you're concerned?"

Dean sighed. "Yesterday, I was reacting as a selfish jerk. Today, I realized how much the baby means to Sam. I know that I tend to come off as an arrogant, bossy, smart alec jackass, and I hate showing emotions. I don't want to appear weak. Sam, though, he's my brother, my only family. I'm sure that I don't show it, but I would do anything for him. I would even die for him if it came to that." Dean blinked against the tears that were building in his eyes. He ran a hand over his face and cleared his throat. "That probably doesn't make any sense coming from me, but that's how I feel. I _do_ love my brother." Dean shook his head and gave a short chuckle. "But if you tell anyone that I got emotional, I'll deny it to my dying day."

The doctor smiled. "I have no intention of revealing this conversation. I just wanted to make sure that you weren't going to do another turn around and upset Sam again. His emotional health is just as important as his physical. Do you understand?"

Dean met the doctor's look, defiance showing once again in his eyes. "Yeah, I understand."

"Good," the doctor replied. "Take Sam home. He's probably dressed by now."

Dean turned and headed back to Sam's room. He rapped on the door and opened it slightly. "You decent in there?"

"Yeah, Dean, come on in," Sam answered. "So what did you say to Dr. Forester?"

"Oh, I was just telling him that you make the best mixed berry cobbler," Dean smirked.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm being serious here."

"So am I," Dean replied. "I think he expects one when you come in next week."

"Dean…" Sam growled.

Dean shook his head. "Dude, chill. I was just checking to see if you needed any special care."

"And what did he say?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. "He said you need a pink fluffy robe with the matching pair of fuzzy slippers."

Sam groaned. "I don't know why I even talk to you. Can we just go now? We need to stop by a store on the way home."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "For the robe?"

Sam sighed heavily. He wished Dean would be serious for a moment. "For your information, we need to stop by the grocery store. We need more milk and I, personally, would like something more than cold cuts for dinner. Plus we need more mayo. The carryout last night only had a little jar."

"Dinner has to be something for the microwave, since that's all we have in the hotel room." Dean countered.

"How stupid do you really think I am?" Sam shot back a bit disgusted. "I had already figured that. But they are doing wonderful things with microwavable meals lately."

Dean laughed. "Come on, Sasquatch. Let's go get you your food fix. Plus, I need a beer after today."

Sam shook his head. "After last night, I would've thought you'd learned your lesson."

Dean gave Sam an innocent look. "What about last night? I didn't have a problem. So, I slurred a few words…no big deal."

"Whatever," Sam replied as he left the room.

Dean laughed some more as he followed Sam out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam paced around the living room. In the two months since he found out he was pregnant, he and Dean had moved into a small, two bedroom house. In between his scheduled doctor's appointments, he had done some shopping. He wanted to get the baby things before his condition became obvious which would bring unwanted questions. He also picked up some larger clothes for himself. He figured the easiest would be to get sweatpants and t-shirts in larger sizes. Dean though couldn't resist buying him a maternity shirt with a yellow caution sign saying "Baby on Board". His health had been fairly good. There had only been three times that he had to see the doctor outside his scheduled appointments. Twice was for cramping, but once was for a severe bout of vomiting. It turned out that he had picked up a stomach bug, and he ended up having to stay at the clinic overnight with an IV to ward off dehydration.

Now, though, Sam was worried about Dean. This was the fourth time that Dean had gone out on a hunt alone. He had heard about a haunting in the town about three hours away. Dean had called Sam the night before and gave him an update. It was supposed to be a simple "salt and burn". Dean figured that he would be back in Elk Point around daybreak, but that was hours ago. Sam had tried calling Dean, but all he got was the voicemail. After looking out the front window at the empty driveway one last time, he flopped down on the sofa. He picked up one of the two pregnancy books that he had bought from the bookstore. He had originally checked them and a few other pregnancy books out from the local library, but he like these particular two so much that he purchased them when he had to return the library's copies. He idly flipped to the chapters dealing with the second trimester. He tried to concentrate on what he was reading, but his mind kept flitting back to Dean. Where was he? Did he run into trouble? He glanced back down at the book and smiled as he realized which book he had grabbed. His memories went back to an incident two weeks ago.

Sam had gotten up for the third time that night. Between having to pee and the bad heartburn, he was surprised that he could get any sleep. After leaving the bathroom, he noticed that the living room light was still on. Since Dean had gone to bed before he did, he figured that he must have left the light on. Rounding the doorway, Sam saw that Dean had gotten up and was reading one of the pregnancy books.

"Whatcha doin', Dean?" Sam asked.

Dean jumped at his brother's voice. "Jesus, Sam! Give a guy some warning. You almost gave me a heart attack."

"I really doubt that," Sam replied as he sat down next to Dean. "I can't believe that you're actually reading that."

Dean quickly closed the book. "I wasn't reading. I was just looking at the pictures."

Sam gave him a doubtful look. "Looking at pictures of pregnant women? I didn't think that was your style." 

Dean was looking decidedly uncomfortable. "Well, yeah…you see…I was having trouble sleeping, and there wasn't anything good on TV this late, so I thought maybe I could put myself to sleep with a boring book."

Sam snickered a bit. "Well, don't let me stand in your way." He then stood and headed back to his room. He could hear Dean calling behind him. "Hey, it's just so that I can sleep. It's not like I'm really interested in this. You understand, right? Hey, Sam?" Sam just shook his head and settled himself back into bed hoping to get a few more hours of sleep before morning.

The low growl of the impala pulled Sam from his musings. He jumped up and looked out the window and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the impala pull into the driveway. His relief was short lived however when Dean tiredly dragged himself through the door.

"Dean, what the hell happened to you?" Sam exclaimed as he took in Dean's disheveled appearance. He had a two inch cut on his cheek that had been taped together. Plus, he had a pronounced limp as he crossed the room. His torn and bloody shirt covered any damage to his torso.

"Hell was exactly what happened," Dean replied.

Sam shook his head. "I don't understand. You said it was a simple salt and burn."

"Well, I was wrong!" Dean snapped. "It turned out to be a trap."

"Trap?" Sam questioned in confusion. "What kind of trap?"

"It wasn't your typical haunting," Dean growled. "There were two ghosts working together."

"Two?" Sam interrupted. "Are you sure they were working together?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, I'm sure they were working together…to kick my ass."

"What happened?" Sam wanted to know. "How'd you get away?"

Dean shook his head. "The local priest had heard about the increase of ghost stories and just happened to choose last night to stake out the graveyard to see what was going on. He helped me when I was attacked. We were able to salt and burn the one set of bones and both ghosts disappeared."

Sam gave Dean a confused look. "Both? Why'd they both disappear?"

"I don't know," Dean answered. "Father Ramsey threw out an idea, but I don't know if I buy it. He seemed to think that Anne Lockhead, the set of bones we burned, was pregnant when she died, and the second ghost was her unborn child."

Sam was puzzled. "Is that even possible?"

"Hell if I know," Dean groused. "I've never dealt with the ghost of an 'unborn' baby before, or it simply could've been a ghost that disappeared out of self preservation. Since we didn't know who it was, we couldn't burn its bones. I'm just glad I got out of there in one piece."

"You're lucky that the priest was there," Sam off handedly remarked.

"I was lucky, wasn't I?" Dean replied with anger creeping into his voice. "And why was that? Oh yeah, my back up wasn't there. My brother, whose ass I've saved, who knows how many times, wasn't around to help me. He decided that having a baby was more important than continuing our work."

Sam recoiled at Dean's tirade. "Dean, I…"

Dean cut his brother off. "Save it. All I want right now is a hot shower and a good eight hours in bed." He hobbled into the bathroom and closed the door.

Sam stared dumbfounded at the door. He was shocked at Dean's comments. Up until this point, Dean seemed like he was being supportive, but now, Sam wasn't so sure. Was this anger Dean's true feelings?"

"Well," Sam muttered to himself. "If that's how you really feel…" He went to his room and pulled his duffle bag from the closet. He continued mumbling as he quickly packed some clothes. "Said you'd support me…pack of lies…showing your true colors…don't have to do it anymore…you can have your life back…never see me again…" He started to leave the house but paused at the front door. He could hear the shower still running. He couldn't help feeling guilty because Dean was upset with him. "I'm sorry, Dean." He quietly slipped out the door.

Dean exited the bathroom towel drying his hair. "Sam, about earlier…I didn't mean the things I said."

Dean looked around in concern when he didn't get a response to his statement. He stuck his head through the kitchen door. "Sam, you in here?" Still, he got no response. So he moved to Sam's bedroom. "Sammy?" He took a look around the room and realized that it wasn't up to its normal standard of neatness. He took a closer look and discovered the missing items. "Oh, shit!" he exclaimed as he rushed to get dressed.

Dean turned another corner. He had been searching for Sam for over ten minutes. Since he had no idea how long Sam had been gone or what direction he took, Dean had been driving around in increasing circles from their house. He turned another two corners and finally found the object of his search. Sam sat on a park bench outside an ice cream stand.

Dean pulled the Impala next to the curb. He reached over and rolled down the passenger window. "Man, Sammy, you scared the shit out of me. Come on, get in the car."

Sam shook his head. "I don't think so, Dean."

"Look, I'm sorry about yelling earlier," Dean said. "I didn't mean it."

"I think you meant every word." Sam grabbed his bag and started to walk down the sidewalk.

Dean put the car in gear and crept along beside Sam. "Come on, Sam. I was tired. You know how I get. My mouth ran wild, but my brain wasn't engaged."

"And that's exactly why I think that was your true feelings this morning," Sam snapped. "Your brain wasn't telling you to lie to me."

"I haven't been lying to you," Dean argued.

Sam shook his head. "Yeah, right, you said that you would support me, but you don't want me to have the baby. The only thing you care about is the hunt. You made that perfectly clear."

Dean sighed. "Of course, I care about hunting. You know all the crazy things that are out there. Somebody needs to protect the unsuspecting people out there."

"And you've appointed yourself their knight in shining armor," Sam sneered.

"I wouldn't say 'knight' per say," Dean replied. "But yeah, I think we should do what we can."

"And to hell with the people around you," Sam sniffed trying to keep his emotions at bay.

"I didn't mean it like that." Dean answered back.

Sam stopped walking and turned toward the car. "Well, it sure felt like it."

Dean softened his gaze. "Please get in the car. It'll be a whole lot easier to talk about this if I don't have to bellow from the car."

Sam looked doubtful. "I don't know, Dean."

Dean gave Sam his "hurt puppy dog" look. "Please, Sam, let's talk this out."

Sam sighed and climbed into the car. "Okay, but I'm not promising anything."

"Well, let's table this until we get home," Dean said. Sam nodded, and the drive was done in silence.

Since Dean wasn't circling, the drive back to the house only took a few minutes. Once they got there, Sam went directly to the recliner and raised his feet.

Dean went into the kitchen. "Do you want something to drink?" he called.

"Just some water," Sam answered.

Dean returned to the living room and handed Sam a glass of ice water. He sat down on the couch. He rested his elbows on his knees and held his own glass of ice water in both hands. He stared into the glass and began speaking. "Look, I'm really sorry about this morning. I was so tired, and I said things that I shouldn't have."

"You said that already. It's still no excuse," Sam replied. He was surprised that Dean was apologizing again. Admitting that he was wrong was never Dean's strong suit, but he had done it a few times over the past couple of months. Maybe the idea of being an uncle was getting to him, or maybe he was reminded of what Dr. Forester said about not upsetting him. Whatever the reason for this occasional "softer side", Dean's "controlling" side still reared its head at times, and Sam wasn't about to let him off easy.

Dean nodded. "You're right. It's no excuse, but you're not right about my feelings." Sam cocked an eyebrow at Dean but didn't speak. "I _am_ trying to be supportive. Sure, it's not the decision that I would've made, and that is what showed through this morning. I told you that I would be here for you, and I will."

Sam shook his head. "Except for when you're on a hunt. Do you have any idea how worried I am when you're out alone? I _know_ the dangers that are out there. I _know_ the chances that you are taking. I'm not _stupid_ here."

"Well, you don't have to worry anymore," Dean said quietly.

Sam gave Dean a confused look. "What'd you mean?"

Dean ran a hand over his face. "I've decided to stop hunting for a while."

Sam's eyes widened in shock. "Are you kidding me? You can't stop hunting. It's your life. You don't know how to do anything else."

"It won't be forever," Dean said. "Just until you're able to start hunting again. And what do you mean I 'don't know how to do anything else'? I'll have you know that I have many qualities to fall back on."

"Uh-huh," Sam replied. "Look, I don't want you to do this for me. I know how much hunting means to you. Why don't you find another hunter to team up with until I'm back in the game? Maybe Bobby could…"

Dean shook his head. "No, that wouldn't work. I'm used to working with you. By the time I would get used to working with someone else, you'll be ready to hunt again. Besides after all these years, don't you think I deserve a vacation?"

Sam smiled. "All right, if you're sure this is what you _really_ want to do, I won't hassle you about it."

Dean made a wry face. "Gee, thanks." He stood and made his way to the kitchen. "We need to do a grocery run. Do you want to come with me, or just give me a list?"

"I'll come with you," Sam answered. "I know we need some more mayonnaise, and who knows what else will pop out at me?"

"More Mayo? But I just bought that jar last week. What are you doing? Eating it by the spoonful?" Dean laughed.

Sam stood up. "Not quite, but we may want to stock up on it."

One month later, Dean returned home from his part time job at the local garage. "Hey, Sam, I'm home."

Sam came out of the kitchen. He wore one of his larger t-shirts to cover his protruding stomach. "How was work?"

Dean plopped down on the couch. "Boring…two brake jobs and an oil change."

"Do you want something to drink?" Sam asked. "Or do you want to wait for dinner? It should be ready in about an hour."

"A beer sounds good." Dean stood up. "But I can get it myself. By the way, what are we having?"

"I have a pot roast in the oven," Sam answered.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "A pot roast, huh? Earlier this week you made lasagna. Since when did you become Rachel Ray?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Forgive me for trying to make things nice for you."

"Don't get me wrong," Dean said. "I do enjoy these home cooked meals. I just didn't know that you _could_ cook."

"I couldn't before," Sam admitted. "I've been finding recipes on the net."

Dean took a long draught on his beer. "This 'nesting' phase of yours is kind of nice. It's like the home life we never had."

Sam flushed red at the statement. "I'm not nesting. I just need something to fill my time while I'm stuck here in the house."

"R-r-right," Dean drawled. "Sure you're not nesting. You've already got the house baby-ready, and you're not quite six months yet."

Sam held his arms out. "I had to. It'd be a little hard to explain this to people." He motioned to his expanding waistline. "Face it. I'm a prisoner in this house until the baby is born."

"Aw, I'm just yanking your chain," Dean laughed. He would have said more, but a knock sounded on the door. Out of habit, Dean grabbed his gun and peeked out the window. Sighing, he opened the door. "Hey there, Bobby, come on in. How are ya?"

Bobby entered the house. "I'm fine, Dean. How are things going with you boys?"

Dean exchanged a quick look with Sam who was trying to hide on the other side of the kitchen counter. "Well, life kind of threw us a loop, but we're handling it."

Bobby caught the exchange between the brothers. "Sam, do you think I could maybe get a drink?"

"Sure, Bobby," Sam replied. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and held it out to Bobby. "A beer okay?"

Bobby took the beer from Sam. Even though Sam tried to avoid facing him head on, Bobby noticed that Sam seemed to be heavier than the last time he had seen him. He thought that was strange since because of their jobs both boys tended to keep themselves in good physical condition. Of course, the rumor that the Winchesters had quit hunting was what brought him looking for them. After seeing the shape Sam was in, Bobby wondered if it was more than a rumor.

Bobby looked Sam over. "You know, Sam. You may want to lay off the beer for a while. It looks like you're getting a bit of a gut there."

Sam's face paled. He could feel the tears building. Without saying a word, he ran into the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

"Dammit," Dean exclaimed. Turning towards Bobby, he demanded. "What'd you have to say that for?"

Now Bobby was really confused. "Dean, what the hell is going on?"

Dean shook his head. "Give me a minute." He banged on the bathroom door. "Sam, come on Sam, open up."

"No," Sam declared through the closed door. "Not while he's there."

"Give him a break," Dean argued. "He didn't mean anything by it. He doesn't know."

Sam was in tears. "No! I'm fat and ugly. I don't want anyone to see me like this."

Bobby grew concerned as he took in the interaction between the brothers. "Dean, there's something wrong with Sam, isn't there?"

Dean shot Bobby an exasperated look. "Yeah, you could say that." He banged more on the door. "Come on, Sam. Open the door."

"Is it serious?" Bobby asked.

"Please, Bobby, let me deal with Sam before I deal with your questions," Dean said testily.

Bobby took a step back in acquisition.

Dean turned back to the door. "Sam, if you don't open up, I'll force my way in there."

Sam's voice came through the door. "Tell Bobby to leave."

Dean sighed. "Look, we needed to tell Bobby about this eventually. So, why not now? Whadda ya say. Come on out."

Dean heard the lock click open, but Sam did not come out. Dean stuck his head in the door. "You okay?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't think I can do this."

Dean moved farther into the bathroom. He tried to encourage his brother. "It's gonna be okay. It's just Bobby. He's the closest thing we have to family. He'll understand."

Sam wiped away his tears and nodded. The two left the bathroom. Dean steered Sam towards the table. "Have a seat. I'll get you something to drink. Do you want juice or water?"

Sam sat down. "Water, please."

Bobby sat across the table from Sam. "Look, Sam, I'm not sure why I upset you, but I didn't mean to."

Dean set the glass of water in front of Sam. "Do you want to tell him, or do you want me?"

Sam took a quick sip of his water. "You can," he said quietly.

Dean took another seat at the table. He folded his hands and tapped his index fingers together. "I know this is going to sound crazy, but Sam is pregnant."

Bobby's eyes widened, and he looked at Sam. "You're what?"

More tears slipped from Sam's eyes, and he turned away from the table.

Bobby turned towards Dean. "You're serious? He's really…" He couldn't bring himself to say the word.

"Pregnant," Dean supplied for him. "Yeah, I'm serious. He's pregnant."

"But how can he be?" Bobby stammered. "He's a …I mean, isn't that impossible?"

Dean sighed. "The trickster did it."

Comprehension dawned on Bobby. "A trickster? You two sure have had your share of them, two in less than a year."

Sam cleared his throat. "Actually, the doctor thinks it's the same one."

"But we killed the bastard," Bobby interrupted.

Dean shook his head and explained. "Apparently, we didn't kill him. That was just another one of his tricks."

Bobby nodded. "And this is his revenge for us trying to kill him."

"That's pretty much the gist of it," Dean answered.

Bobby blew out a heavy breath. "Wow…don't take this the wrong way, Sam, but I'm glad it's not me he decided to take revenge on. I can't help but wonder though why you didn't want me to know."

Sam bowed his head guiltily. "I was afraid that you would be like Dean was and get mad because I decided to keep the baby. I didn't want to go through that again."

Bobby turned to Dean. "You didn't want him to keep the baby?"

Dean shrugged. "It's not really orthodox here. A man, a hunter to boot, having a baby? It just screamed tabloid fodder. Plus I was worried about Sam, but I'm getting used to the idea."

Bobby turned back to Sam. "I guess the only thing to say is that it was your decision to make, and I respect whatever you decide." He took a moment to collect his thoughts and then asked. "So, how far along are you? Do you know if it's a boy or girl yet? Since you're here in Elk Point, I assume you're seeing Dr. Forester. Does he foresee any problems with…how do I put this…the difference in your anatomy?"

"I'm about a week shy of six months, and it's a boy," Sam answered.

Bobby smiled. "A boy…one to carry on the Winchester name. Your dad would be so proud."

The mention of his father brought up mixed emotions for Sam. Since his father's death, things have been a little clearer, but their relationship had been so volatile for so long that it was hard to bury all the hard feelings. Changing the subject, he continued. "Dr. Forester gave me a whole list of possible problems. That's why we have to stay here in Elk Point. He wants to keep a close eye on me."

Bobby nodded. "And you two decided to quit hunting?"

Dean returned the nod. "The doctor said that it would be dangerous for Sam to hunt. I tried to hunt a while on my own, but after getting my butt kicked but good, I realized how much I've come to rely on Sam. So, I decide to wait until Sam was ready to hunt again."

Bobby finished his beer in one swallow and stood up. "Okay, boys, I only came to find out if the rumors that you had quit hunting were true, and now I know. So, I think I will head back home."

"Why don't you stay for dinner?" Sam offered. "There's plenty, and it'll be ready soon."

"Yeah, Bobby," Dean added. "Stay. Sammy here has made a pot roast for dinner. You should see it, Bobby. He has turned into a real 'happy little homemaker'. I've been getting some great meals in the last couple of weeks."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Thanks…I think."

Bobby laughed. "Okay, if you boys are sure, you can tell me all about the things you've done to get ready for the baby."

"Let me get you another beer," Dean said. "And I can fill you in on all the things you can do as 'Uncle Bobby'."

"Hey, don't be giving him any ideas," Sam interjected. "You'll be bad enough." Turning to Bobby, he continued. "But after the baby is born, hopefully, we can count on you for some 'baby-sitting' chores, Uncle Bobby."

Bobby nodded. "Anything that I can do, and not just after the baby is born. If you need me, even in the next few months, just call me."

"You may regret that offer after the first few calls from a blubbering Sam," Dean laughed.

"I'm not that bad," Sam huffed.

Dean gave Sam a dumbfounded look. "Sam, last week you were crying at a commercial."

"It was an especially touching commercial," Sam defended himself.

"And today?" Dean smirked.

Sam shrugged. "It was just a 'moment'. I got over it."

Dean laughed out loud. "Yes, you did. Do you need any help with dinner?"

"You can set the table and give the salad a final toss," Sam replied.

Bobby cocked an eyebrow at Dean. "Salad? He's got you eating salad?"

Dean shrugged. "I told you…the happy homemaker."

The three guys laughed as they finished the final dinner preparations, and then sat down to an enjoyable meal.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam woke up with the intense need to pee. As he did his "business", he looked down and told his well rounded stomach. "If you're going to sit on my bladder, the least you can do is do it during the day. I'd really like to get some sleep at night."

Sam jumped at the sound of Dean's voice through the closed door. "You talking to yourself in there, Sammy?"

Sam quickly finished up. He yanked the door open and demanded. "What the hell are you doing? Trying to give me a heart attack?"

Dean shrugged. "I can see what kind of day it's going to be."

"Don't make this about me," Sam countered. "You scared me half to death. Why are you up so early?"

"It's not that early," Dean answered. "It's almost six, and I wanted to get in early today."

Sam gave him a confused look. "Why?"

Dean poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down. He began explaining to Sam like he was talking to a small child. "I told you. Denny invited us to a Halloween party tonight. I need to pick up our costumes this afternoon, and Mr. Rider said that I can leave once I finish the head gasket on that Olds."

Sam held a hand up to interrupt Dean. "I thought I told you that I didn't want to go to the party."

Dean threw his hands up slightly. "Oh come on, you have the perfect costume, throw a wig on your head, and put you in a dress, and presto…instant costume of a pregnant woman. You can't do any better."

Sam shook his head as he poured himself a glass of milk. "I have no desire to go to a party, perfect costume or not."

"I don't get you, Sammy," Dean replied. "With the exception of going to the doctor, you haven't been out of the house in a month, which I have no idea how you've done it without going stir crazy. Now, you have the opportunity to go out without raising eyebrows, and you're going to turn it down. It just doesn't make any sense."

"I hate Halloween," Sam snapped. "You, of all people, should understand that. After what we've seen… aww, just forget it."

Dean sighed. "You're looking at what, another seven…eight weeks before the baby is due? I just thought you'd appreciate the chance to get out one last time. Forgive me for thinking about you."

Sam rolled his eyes. "If you were really thinking about me, you'd realize that the last thing I'd want to do in the evening is go to a party." Dean gave Sam a confused look, so Sam continued. "Think about it, Dean. By dinnertime, I'm tired, cranky, my back hurts, my ankles start to swell, and all I want to do is stretch out and get some rest."

"You could take a nap in the afternoon. Then you'd be able to stay up later," Dean suggested.

Sam dropped his glass onto the table with a heavy thud. "Damn it, Dean, I'm not going to some idiotic party given by someone who I only met once, where everyone is getting plowed."

"Sam…" Dean tried to interrupt, but Sam continued his ranting.

"Besides, there's no guarantee that someone won't find out my true condition," Sam snapped. "All it would take would be for someone for whatever reason to grab my stomach. One good kick from Junior here, and they'd know that the bulge under the dress isn't padding. Are you willing to risk that? I know I'm not."

"Sam, will you calm down," Dean tried again.

Sam shook his head. "If the party means so much to you, go ahead and go. I don't need you to baby sit me. I'll be fine this evening without you."

Dean stood and put his empty coffee mug in the sink. "Okay, Sam, I won't mention the party again. I know that pregnant women tend to be emotional, but this is ridiculous. Maybe you should talk to Dr. Forester about it."

"There's nothing wrong with me," Sam sneered. "Other than you trying to make me do something I don't want to do."

Dean grabbed his jacket and his keys. "Like I said…one of those days…" he muttered to himself. He headed toward the door, but paused and turned back towards Sam. "You might want to think about the real reason why you're so upset. I've got a feeling that it has nothing to do with hating Halloween."

Sam sighed as he heard the door close behind Dean. He knew that his brother was right. Granted, Halloween was never a favorite holiday for him, but after Jessica's death, it took on a whole new meaning for him. He had gone to his one and only Halloween party with her. He could still picture her in that cute little nurse's uniform. He had to admit that he had enjoyed himself even though he had gotten razed about not wearing a costume. Later that night was when Dean showed up to announce that their dad was missing. He should have never left Jessica, because by the time he got back she was dead. The premonitions suddenly made sense. He knew what was coming, but he chose to ignore it. He could still remember it like it was just yesterday, coming home, eating a cookie, finding Jess pinned to the ceiling, bursting into flames. The yellow-eyed demon timed it so that Sam found her as soon as he got home. If it hadn't been for Dean, he would have died in the ensuing fire. People were compassionate about his loss, but they had no idea about the depth of his guilt. Dean had forced him to face up to it and deal with it. He tried, but it was hard. He still missed her greatly. So, now, every year, Halloween was just another painful reminder of how he failed Jessica. This year was worse though. Maybe it was the hormones that were causing it, or it could be because he was going to have a baby…a family…without Jess…alone.

Sam wiped away the tears that had formed as he thought about Jessica. He got up from the table and headed to his room. He was both physically and emotionally tired. Hopefully, once he got past this time of year, he'd feel better. He decided that once Dean got home he would explain about Jessica, and make it right with his brother. He knew how Dean would react. He would tell Sam that Jessica's death wasn't his fault and that he can't let it eat him like it was. He would then try to convince him to still come to the party, and when that didn't work, he would make up some lame excuse about not wanting to go either. Then Sam would tell him to go to the party and physically push him out the door. God, they were so predictable, but that was their lives. With the decision firmly in mind, he stretched out on his bed and drifted off to sleep.

Not quite four weeks later

"Dean, I could really use some help in here," Sam called from the kitchen.

"Give me a few minutes, Sam," Dean called back. "The parade is almost over. Santa is about to make his appearance."

Sam rolled his eyes, even though Dean couldn't see him. "Aren't you a little old for Santa Claus?"

Dean sauntered into the kitchen. "But that's the highlight of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. It would seem silly to watch it all the way through only to walk away right before Santa."

Sam shook his head. "All I know is that Bobby is going to be here shortly, and I still have the potatoes to do, the green beans, and assemble the relish tray. The _last_ thing I am worried about is a parade or Santa."

Dean laughed as he grabbed a knife and began helping Sam peel the potatoes. "Are you okay doing all this? It seems like you're going through an awful lot of fuss for just the three of us."

"I know, and I'm fine," Sam replied. "But Bobby did this a couple of times for us when we were kids. I just thought it was payback time. Besides this is better than the TV dinners you made last year."

"Hey, they were turkey meals," Dean defended himself. "And I got the big ones that came with dessert."

Sam laughed. "Well, I think my homemade pumpkin and cherry pies will beat that apple-cranberry goop hands down."

"But we are going to have cranberries, right?" Dean asked. "It's just not Thanksgiving without cranberry jelly."

Sam moved the potatoes to the stove. With an exaggerated sigh, he answered Dean. "Yes, we will be having cranberries, but its fresh jelly that I made yesterday. But then again, you may not like it, since your taste buds have been ruined with all the junk food you eat."

A knock on the door sounded before Dean could retort. Instead, he said. "That's probably Bobby. I'll get it."

Sure enough, Sam could hear Bobby's voice when Dean opened the door. "Happy Thanksgiving, Dean."

"Happy Thanksgiving to you too," Dean replied. "Come on in. Sam's in the kitchen finishing up the dinner stuff."

The two entered the kitchen as Sam was setting the green beans on the stove. "Happy Thanksgiving, Sam," Bobby said. "How are you feeling?"

"Happy Thanksgiving to you too, Bobby," Sam answered. "I guess I'm doing okay, with the exception of the swollen ankles and constant backaches, not to mention having to pee every five minutes."

Bobby laughed. "Typical pregnancy complaints."

Sam made a wry face. "I'll just be glad when it's over."

"How much longer do you have to go?" Bobby asked.

"Three weeks and five days," Sam answered.

"That's if it's on time," Dean interjected saucily. "A lot of first babies are late."

Sam looked down at his stomach. "You're not allowed to be late. Do you hear me? Three weeks and five days…that's it."

The three guys laughed. Then Sam continued. "No, seriously, it won't be late. Since I have to have a c-section, we can schedule it at any time."

Sam and Dean quickly finished the rest of the dinner preparations, and then they went into the living room while the food finished cooking.

Bobby looked around the room and took in the bassinet, the swing, a couple of blankets stacked together, and a small basket of baby toys. "Are you guys set for the baby?"

Sam nodded. "I think so."

"You think so?" Dean asked incredulously. "You better hope so." Turning toward Bobby, he continued. "In addition to the stuff out there, he's got a crib and changing table in his room. He's got a playpen out in the shed for when the baby gets bigger. He's got a mountain of clothes in various sizes. Plus he's got four packs of diapers and a case of formula. If that isn't ready, I don't know what is."

Sam shook his head. "Don't let him fool you. He's just as anxious as I am. He's probably bought at least half of that 'mountain of clothes' and look at this." From the basket, Sam pulled an ultra soft teddy bear with the words "Baby's first teddy" embroidered on its stomach. "Uncle Dean was so excited when he brought this home."

"I wasn't that excited," Dean argued. "You make it sound like I was jumping around like a kid."

Sam laughed. "You were. If your grin had gotten any bigger, your face would've split in two."

Bobby took the bear from Sam, and before Dean could continue the argument, he said. "It's a cute little bear. I might've got it myself if I had seen it."

Dean gave Sam a superior look. "See it's not so unusual."

Sam rolled his eyes. "And how about the clothes, the mobile, or the other toys you've bought. Face it. You're just as excited about this baby eve if you don't want to admit it."

"Give me that." Dean snatched the bear from Bobby and threw it at Sam. "Shut your cake hole," he teased.

Sam instinctively tried to catch the bear, but it bounced off his fingertips and over the back of the recliner. "Swift move there, bro."

Bobby laughed along with them. "So, how else are things going? How's the job going, Dean?"

"Oh, it's fine," Dean answered. "I don't get the thrill out of changing the oil on a car like I did when I would blow away a werewolf or behead a vampire, but it won't be for much longer."

Bobby turned to Sam. "How about you? Are you really ready for parenthood, and I'm not talking about material things this time?"

Sam sighed. "I don't know if anyone is every really ready. It's a learning process as we go along. I just hope to be the best dad I can for this little boy."

"I can understand that," Bobby replied. "How about names? Have you thought of any?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I have, and only one name seems right. Jason."

"Jason?" Bobby asked. "How'd you reach that one?"

"It was Jess's favorite boy's name," Sam answered. "We talked about it a few times. So, even though she's not here to share my son with me, I wanted to honor her by naming the baby Jason…Jason Dean."

Dean's head shot up in surprise. "Dean? You never told me that."

Sam shrugged. "Well, you've been there for me a lot, and not just during the pregnancy. I wanted to show you how much you mean to me too."

Dean's face reddened slightly and he tried to hide it. "Sam, I really don't know what to say. I am honored, really, and I'm sure that Jess would be too."

Sam and Bobby shared an amused look at Dean's embarrassment. They both knew that he didn't handle emotions too well. Sam decided to take pity on his brother. "Okay, enough of this sap," he said as he struggled his way out of the chair. "I'm gonna be in the kitchen. There are a few more things to be done before dinner is ready."

Dean stood up and offered. "Why don't you let me finish up? You've been in the kitchen all morning."

Sam laughed. "Right…you in the kitchen…you would ruin all my hard work."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm not _that_ bad. I can cook some."

"Sure you can," Sam teased. "Hamburgers, hot dogs and the occasional scrambled eggs, which you've still managed to burn."

"Hey, I'll have you know…" Dean began to argue.

Bobby interrupted the bickering. "Look, how about Dean and I do the work and you can sit and supervise?"

Sam shook his head. "We didn't invite you here for you to do the cooking."

"Mashing the cooked potatoes and setting the food on the table, isn't cooking," Bobby argued with a friendly tone. "Besides, I'd rather be able to enjoy your company today than have you fall asleep because you wore yourself out."

"Okay," Sam nodded. "But I'll be watching you." Bobby took over the final food preparation while Dean set the table. "Don't forget the mayonnaise," Sam told his brother.

Bobby looked around at the different dishes of food. "Mayonnaise? What do you need mayonnaise for? Are you planning on making sandwiches?"

Dean burst out laughing. "Any _normal_ person wouldn't need mayo for a Thanksgiving feast, but not our little momma here. He eats mayo with everything, sandwiches, potato chips, pork chops…I'm surprised that I haven't seen him putting it in his cereal."

"Shut up, Dean." Sam ducked his head as he blushed furiously. "It's not that bad."

"Yeah…right," Dean continued laughing. "That's why we go through almost two jars of mayonnaise a week."

"Now, boys, that's enough bickering," Bobby interrupted as he began setting the dishes on the table. "Let's have a nice meal here, and Sam, feel free to use any condiment that you want. After all, the baby can't be denied what he wants."

The three sat at the table, and Bobby even took a minute to say a prayer of thanks, and then they began eating. Around a mouthful of food, Bobby said. "I talked to Ellen last week. She asked about you."

Dean paused a moment and then took a bite of his dinner roll. "What did you say?"

Bobby shook his head. "I still played dumb about Sam's condition, but I'll admit I'm kind of confused. I thought you were going to tell her about the baby."

Dean raised an eyebrow as an indication for Sam to explain. Sam looked down at his plate and pushed the food around. "I just couldn't tell her. I've tried, but there never seems to be a right time."

"So, what are you going to do?" Bobby continued. "Just show up at Christmas with a baby?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," Dean laughed. "Can you imagine her face if we just walk in with Junior?"

"It's not funny, Dean," Sam declared hotly as he stood up. "Now if you will excuse me, _Junior_ is kicking the hell out of my bladder."

Bobby watched as Sam left the kitchen and then turned back towards Dean. "Is he okay?"

Dean shrugged. "It's the hormones. Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure?" Bobby asked. "I mean he went from being happy and laughing to being depressed in a matter of seconds."

Dean nodded as he shoved more food in his mouth. "This was nothing. A couple months ago, he was flipping so bad, it was like he was in an 'emotional' revolving door. You watch he'll be in a different mood when he gets back."

"So, you're not worried?" Bobby continued.

Dean shook his head. "If he doesn't come back soon, I'll go check on him, but he really hates it when I 'mother-hen' him, as he puts it."

Bobby went back to his meal. Sure enough, a few minutes later Sam returned in a better mood. He took a big bite of turkey, and then asked. "So, how badly do you think the Lions are going to get whooped on today?" Light and friendly conversation followed for the rest of the afternoon.


	6. Chapter 6

Twelve days after Thanksgiving, Elk Point was hit by the first major snow storm of the year. Dean's boss had called first thing in the morning and told him to stay home. "Nobody in their right mind would be out in this weather anyways," he had reasoned.

Sam paced around the living room while Dean sat on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table. He flipped through the TV channels and sighed. "You know, daytime TV sucks."

Sam gave a snort of disgust. "You don't think I know that? I'm the one who's been stuck in this house for the past few months." He moved to the window. He tried to stretch his back as he watched the snow fall.

Dean rolled his eyes. He hated it when Sam was in a grumpy mood. He went back to flipping through the channels.

"Will you stop that?" Sam snapped. "You're driving me nuts. Just pick something and stick with it."

Dean sighed and turned off the TV. "How about we play some cards? I'll even spot you."

Sam turned away from the window. "I don't know. I guess we could play a few hands. Poker?"

Dean nodded and grabbed a deck of cards and chips. He sat down at the table and began shuffling. He noticed that Sam was still standing by the window. "Are you playing or not?"

"Yeah, sure," Sam walked to the table, stretching his back again along the way.

Dean noticed his action. "Are you okay?"

Sam sighed as he sat down. "I don't know. I feel kind of weird. I can't put my finger on it."

"Are you sick?" Dean asked. "In pain? Do I need to call the doctor?"

Sam shook his head. "No, I'll be fine. I have a back ache that seems to come and go, but I'm sure that it's just because of how the baby is laying. As far as the 'weird' feeling, it's probably just the storm. You know, the change in air pressure and moisture."

"Well, if you're sure," Dean said. He threw a stack of chips towards Sam. "I'll spot you a hundred.

The hands moved quickly since it was just the two of them. After about a half hour, Sam threw his cards on the table. "I fold, and I'm done. My back is bothering me more, and now my stomach is beginning to ache."

"I'd better call the doctor," Dean tried to force back the concern that flared up.

"No, Dean, don't," Sam argued. "It's just the way I was sitting. I'm sure of it. The baby is putting pressure on the wrong nerves. I think that I'll go lay down. Maybe stretching out will ease it up."

"I really think I should call the doctor," Dean argued back. "It could be something serious."

Sam shook his head. "Come on, Dean. Don't you think I would know if it's something serious? Besides, if you call the doctor, he'll want to see me, and going out in this weather is dangerous. I don't want to risk it for what will end up being nothing."

"Okay," Dean acquiesced. "But if you're not feeling better when you get up, I'm calling the doctor. No arguments, deal?"

"Deal," Sam replied.

Sam went into his room and lay down. Dean grabbed the remote and plopped down on the couch. He absent-mindedly flipped through the TV channels. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to Sam's condition than he was letting on.

Two hours later, Dean was sleeping on the couch, having fallen asleep watching a soap opera. He awoke with a start, unsure of what had woken him. He glanced around the living room and saw that everything was quiet. He had just settled his head on the throw pillow when he heard Sam's panicked voice calling his name. Dean bolted from the couch and through Sam's bedroom door.

"Sam? What is it?" The panic in Dean's voice matched Sam's.

Sam was curled in the fetal position. "It hurts, Dean."

Dean knelt next to the bed. "Where? Where does it hurt, Sammy?"

Fear shone from Sam's eyes. "I think I might be in labor."

"I'm calling the doctor." Dean grabbed his cell phone and began dialing.

"Do you think the office is open in this weather?" Sam questioned.

"I have no idea," Dean replied. "I'm calling his cell." He paused as the phone rang. "Damn, voicemail," he muttered and left a message. "Yeah, Dr. Forester, I need you to call me back right away. Sam's in labor."

Dean began dialing again. "I'm going to try the office. Who knows, maybe they are open. That could be why he's not answering his phone." Sam could tell that someone had answered because Dean started talking a mile a minute. "Yes, this is Dean Winchester. I need to speak to Dr. Forester immediately…Yes, it's an emergency!...It's my brother. He needs to see the doctor now! …Yes, yes, he has my number. Make sure he knows it's urgent! …okay, thank you, yes, okay, goodbye."

Dean looked at Sam. "Like we thought, the office is closed due to the weather. His answering service is going to get a hold of him, and he's going to call me back. Let's get you ready to go."

Dean helped Sam into a sitting position and helped put his shoes on. "On a scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain? The doctor will want to know."

Sam nodded. "It comes and goes. When it's at it's worst, it's and eight or eight and a half."

"That sure sounds like contractions," Dean said. "At least the coming and going part."

"No kidding Sherlock," Sam replied. "You don't think I…oh God, here comes another one." He grabbed Dean's hand and squeezed it as he tried to breath through the pain. He tried to remember what Dr. Forester had taught him about Lamaze. The doctor told him that it would help with the pain, but if this was "better", he'd hate to think what women went through before it was developed. The pain began to ease, and he loosened his grip on Dean's hand.

Dean shook his hand to get the blood moving again. "Are you okay?"

"For the moment," Sam answered.

Dean stood up and began pacing. "Why hasn't the doctor called back yet? What's taking so long? You need help now!"

"Maybe we should head to the clinic," Sam suggested.

Dean began dialing his phone again. "It won't do any good if he's not there." He then spoke into the phone. "Yes, it's Dean Winchester again. I'm still waiting to hear from the doctor. Did you tell him it was urgent? ...What do you mean you couldn't get a hold of him? …He went where? …When will he be back? …Can you keep trying to reach him? …Yes, I understand. Thank you." Dean disconnected the call. "For nothing," he mumbled.

"What?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "Apparently, Dr. Forester was called out to a pretty serious car accident north of town, and the answering service can't reach him either."

Sam started rambling questions. "What do you mean they can't reach him? How can they _not_ reach him? Aren't they _always_ supposed to be able to reach him? Did they call his cell? What about a pager? Does he have one? Have they tried it? What the hell is he doing going to an accident? Don't they have EMTs in this town? I can't believe this is happening. What are we going to do?"

"Who, slow down," Dean replied. "I don't know about a pager, and according to the woman at the answering service, she's tried his cell, but the area he's in is normally hit or miss with cell reception, but with this weather, it's almost impossible. She's going to keep trying, though."

"I hope she gets…" Sam gasped as another contraction hit.

Dean rubbed Sam's back and encouraged him to breath through the contraction. He never realized that time could crawl as slowly as it seemed to be right then.

Finally, the contraction subsided. "Dean, we have to do _something_ ," Sam said.

"I know. I know," Dean replied. He dialed his phone again. "Come on, come on, answer the phone," he muttered as he listened to the phone ring. He hung up as it switched to voicemail. He shook his head. "Damn it, voicemail again."

"Are you trying the doctor again?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head as he dialed another number. He continued his mumbling. "Please be there. Come on. Somebody has to…" His head shot up as the phone was answered. "Ellen! It's Dean."

Sam shook his head. "Dean, NO!"

Dean waved off Sam's protest. "I need your help. I don't know what to do. Sam's in labor, and we can't get a hold of the doctor…What do you mean 'Sam, who?' My brother, Sam…No, I'm not drunk! I'm serious…I know that, but _how_ he got pregnant isn't important right now. I need to know how long we can wait for the doctor…Well, you're a woman, and you've had a baby. Don't you have some idea? …Don't yell at me. I've never been through something like this…Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry too. I'm just really worried…uhm, the contractions are, uhm, four, maybe five minutes

part…I wish…hang on a minute, I have another call."

Dean switched to the other call. "Hello…" Relief flooded his voice, as he continued. "Dr. Forester! Thank God. Sam's in labor…Yeah, they're about four minutes apart…Okay, we're leaving right now…See you there."

Dean reconnected with Ellen's call. "Ellen? …Yeah, that was the doctor. We're heading to the clinic now…Sure, I'll call you and let you know…Right, bye."

Dean turned back to Sam. "Okay, let's get going. It won't be long before you're a mother."

"Give me a minute," Sam groaned as another contraction started. "And it's _father_."

Dean laughed lightly. "Shut up and breathe."

After the contraction eased, Dean helped Sam to the car. Because of the weather, it took them more than twice as long to reach the doctor's office. The nurse was the only one there when they entered the clinic.

"Where's the doctor?" Dean demanded.

"He called a few minutes ago," the nurse replied. "The weather is holding him up. He wants me to prep Sam so that if it really is labor, he's ready to go immediately."

Sam changed into a hospital gown, and Dean helped get him settled in an exam room. The nurse took Sam's blood pressure and pulse. She placed her hands on his stomach and felt the abdominal muscles tighten as another contraction hit.

"That's definitely a contraction," The nurse said. "We need to get you on a monitor." She moved the fetal monitor next to the bed and started attaching the belts with the sensors. "Now, how far apart are the contractions?"

"They're about three minutes," Dean answered for Sam.

The nurse nodded. "And when did they start?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm not really sure. I was sleeping, and a contraction woke me up. So, I don't know if that was the first or not."

"But he hadn't been feeling well all day," Dean added.

Sam rolled his eyes. "It was just a back ache. It's not like I haven't had them before."

"But you said that you were feeling weird," Dean countered.

"This back ache," the nurse interrupted the building argument. "Was it steady or did it come and go?"

Sam thought for a moment. "I guess it came and went. Why?"

"They were 'back' contractions," the nurse answered. "You've probably been in labor all day."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, one of your books talked about that. I can't believe that you didn't make the connection."

Sam shook his head. "But it wasn't as intense as these contractions." Another contraction hit seemingly to punctuate his statement.

"Men!" The nurse laughed lightly. "The contractions in the early stages of labor aren't as intense. That grows as you move through the various stages of labor. I thought you were prepared for this."

Sam gave her a sheepish look. "I guess I'm not as ready as I thought I was."

The nurse laughed again. "Nobody is, not really, no matter how hard you try." She moved to the equipment cabinet. "I'm going to start an IV and then get everything set up in the surgical suite."

As the nurse went about her work, Dean moved closer to the table. "If you had let me call the doctor earlier, this would be over by now."

"So, you were right for once," Sam huffed. "Is that what you want to hear?"

Dean got very serious and looked Sam in the eyes. "I want to hear that _you_ are going to be okay. You're the only family that I have left. I can't lose you."

Sam grabbed Dean's hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. "You're not going to lose me. We have taken every precaution that we could. I'm gonna be around a long time to pull you're butt out of hot water."

Dean tossed Sam's hand aside and smiled. "I don't need your help to get out of hot water."

Sam laughed. "Right, like you could've gotten…" A noise in the hall interrupted him.

The nurse taped down the IV canula as she looked towards the door. "It sounds like the doctor is finally here."

Sure enough, the doctor entered the room drying his hands. "So, how are we doing in here?"

The nurse handed him the chart. "He is definitely in labor, but his vital signs look good right now."

Dr. Forester looked at the chart and nodded. "Thank you, Gail. I picked up Dr. Winslow on the way in. He's in the surgical suite. Can you let him know that we are a go? I'm going to run a quick ultrasound before surgery."

The nurse nodded. "Sure, I'll be back in a few minutes." She then left the room.

"Who's Dr. Winslow?" Dean wanted to know.

Dr. Forester began setting up the ultrasound machine. "He's the local vet who…"

"A vet?" Dean exclaimed. "What the hell do you need a vet for? Is there something about the baby that you've been hiding?"

"If you'd let me finish," the doctor spoke with frustration. "I use him when I need an extra hand. He'll be handling the anesthetic. Don't let the word 'vet' throw you. He's very good at what he does, and, more importantly, he knows how to be discreet."

"If you trust him, I'm sure we can," Sam said. "Right, Dean?"

Dean shook his head. "I just think we should have been warned that another guy was…" A sudden gasp from Sam stopped him mid-sentence.

"Sam, what is it?" Dr. Forester asked.

"Sharp pain," Sam gasped as he tried to pull himself into a ball.

Dr. Forester ran the ultrasound wand over Sam's abdomen. "Damn!" He muttered under his breath.

"What? What's wrong?" Dean demanded.

"The placenta is tearing," The doctor answered.

Dean's stress level was rising. "What does that mean?"

"It means we need to get him into surgery now!" Dr. Forester replied as he quickly made his way to the door. He opened it and yelled down the hall. "Gail! Bill! I need you now! And bring the stretcher."

In a matter of seconds, Gail and a slightly graying man entered the room pushing a thin rolling table. "What's up, Brady?" Bill asked.

"We have a placental abruption," Dr. Forester replied. "We need to get him to surgery immediately."

Sam was quickly transferred to the stretcher and was wheeled out of the exam room. "Gail, set up a second IV. Bill, we don't have time for a spinal. So, use a general anesthetic. Let's kick it into high gear. I want to be cutting in ten."

"What can I do?" Dean asked.

"You can go to the waiting room and wait," the doctor replied.

"Is that it?" Dean continued.

The doctor nodded. "Unless you're a praying man, I'm afraid that's it. You could wait in here, but the waiting room would be more comfortable. Now I really have to go. I'll find you when it's over."

Dean went out to the waiting room. The chairs may have been more comfortable, but Dean would not know it because all he did was pace.

Bobby climbed into his car after completing a particularly taxing exorcism. He was saddened that the victim didn't survive, but that was the risk in any exorcism. Some demons seem to be harder on bodies than others. Bobby checked his phone. There was a missed call from Dean and three voicemail messages. One was from a buddy of his calling just to check on how things were going. Another was from an automated telemarketing firm trying to sell new windows for his home. The other message was from Ellen.

Bobby frowned as he listened to Ellen's higher pitch, fast talking message. "Hi, Bobby, it's Ellen. I need to talk to you. It's really important. I need you to call me as soon as you get this message." He dialed the familiar number wondering what was wrong.

Ellen answered after three rings. "Yeah, Ellen, it's me. I just got…"

Ellen interrupted him with her rambling. "Bobby! How could you not tell me about Sam? You knew that I was worried about those boys. I told you that I thought they were hiding something, and you kept their secret instead of putting my mind at ease. Although, I probably would have thought you were lying at first. How did he end up pregnant in the first place? I mean, it's just so unbelievable. When did you find out? I know that you knew. You spent Thanksgiving with them. It would've been hard to hide."

"Take a breath, Ellen," Bobby said. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you, but it wasn't my place to. I've been trying to get Sam to tell you for months. I'm glad he finally did."

"Sam didn't tell me," Ellen interrupted. "Dean did."

"Dean did?' Bobby replied in confusion. "I thought he was taking his cues from Sam."

Ellen sighed heavily. "All I know is that Dean called me in a panic because Sam was in labor and he couldn't reach the doctor."

"Aww, hell," Bobby said. "That's why he called me. Damn, why didn't he leave a message? Did he say what they were going to do?"

"They finally got a hold of the doctor," Ellen answered. "Dean promised to call me to let me know what happened."

"That's it," Bobby responded. "I'm going to head down there. Call me if you hear from Dean."

"Come get me," Ellen ordered.

"Ellen," Bobby began. "You're kind of out of my way."

"You owe me, Bobby," Ellen growled into the phone. "So, come get me. I want to be there for those boys. They have no idea what they're in for."

"I owe you?" Bobby questioned incredulously. "How do you figure?"

"You kept Sam's secret," Ellen answered. "Now quit arguing with me and come and get me."

Bobby relented. "All right, I'll be there late this evening."

"I'll have a hot meal waiting for you," Ellen said. "And Bobby…thanks."

"Anytime Ellen," Bobby hung up from Ellen. He tried calling Dean, but now it was his turn to only get the voice mail.

Once Sam was under the effects of the anesthetic, Dr. Forester made the first incision. He spoke to the other two with him. "Bill, I want you to keep a close eye on his blood pressure. He's losing blood by the second. I don't want to complicate matters by him going into shock, but be prepared to jump in if I need an extra hand." He continued the surgery quickly. "I'm almost to the baby, Gail. You're going to have to care for him. I'm going to have my hands full with Sam. Damn…the bleeding's heavier than I had hoped. Gail, hang another unit of blood and another IV bag. He needs volume."

The nurse moved around to do as the doctor ordered. "We didn't have this trouble before. Are they going to make it?"

Dr. Forester shook his head slightly. "I certainly hope so. I'm ready to deliver, Gail. Is everything set up?"

"Yes, doctor," the nurse replied solemnly.

The doctor gently pulled the baby through the abdominal opening. It gave out a weak cry as Dr. Forester tied off and then cut the umbilical cord. He handed the baby to the nurse and turned his attention back to Sam. "Bill, I need some suction here. I can't see the tear."

The nurse took the baby over to the warmer. She quietly cooed. "Well, hello there, Jason. Welcome to the world." She frowned as she took the vitals. "Doctor," she called. "You'd better check the baby. His apgar is only a five."

Dr. Forester shook his head. "I can't right now. Put him on O2 and start an IV. Get me a crit and by all means, keep him warm. Bill, pull this back. I need a wider field. How's his pressure?"

Dr. Winslow glanced at the monitor. "It's slowly going down. You need to find the tear."

"I'm trying. Believe me. I'm trying," Dr. Forester muttered lowly. He carefully moved Sam's intestine to the side as he followed the remaining placenta to where it was attached. "There…finally…I found it."

"Brady, I really need you now," the nurse interrupted. "This is more than I can handle. I think we're losing him."

Dr. Forester and Dr. Winslow exchanged glances. "Bill, can you…"

An alarm sounded. "Damn…" Dr. Winslow exclaimed as he pressed some buttons on the various machines and adjusted the IV drips. "An arrhythmia…Brady, you have to hurry or we are going to lose him."

Dr. Forester cursed the fates that put him in this position. "Do the best you can, Gail. I'll be there as soon as I stop this bleeding. Bill, sutures…" He turned his attention back to Sam. He sutured the tear and carefully sealed it closed. "Damn, it wasn't just bleeding. We have intestinal fluid in the abdominal cavity. Get me some sterile saline to wash this with. I want an antibiotic added immediately to his IV. Hopefully, we can head off peritonitis." Once he cleaned the area the best he could, he asked. "Bill, can you close for me?"

"Sure," Dr. Winslow replied as he moved to take Dr. Forester's place.

"Don't bother," the nurse said in a choked voice. "We lost him."

Dr. Winslow quickly replaced Dr. Forester who ran to the warming bed while pulling off his bloody gloves. "New gloves!" He demanded. "Maybe we can revive him."

The nurse shook her head, tears shining in her eyes. "No, his vitals were in a steady decline from the moment he was born. Nothing I did changed the rate of decline. There's nothing more to be done. He's gone."

Dr. Forester double checked the vitals himself. "We can't just give up. Paddles…"

The nurse handed him the defibulating paddles. She knew he had to try. She watched him as he shocked the baby three times with no results. Placing a hand on his, she said. "It's over. You're just torturing the poor body. Let it go."

The doctor sighed heavily. "You're right." He then pronounced time of death.

Gail pulled off her own gloves. "I'm sorry. I wish I could have done more."

Dr. Forester shook his head. "I'm sorry too, Gail. I know you did everything possible. It just wasn't meant to be." The nurse turned away from him, fighting back her tears. The doctor continued. "I don't mean to pressure you, but I could really use your help with Sam."

"I'll get you some new gloves," The nurse said as she turned off the warmer.

The surgical suite was engulfed in a heavy quiet as they completed the surgery. Once they were done, they transferred Sam to a room that they used for overnight patients.

Dr. Winslow placed a hand on Dr. Forester's shoulder. "Brady, I'm sorry about the baby, but we are lucky that we didn't lose them both."

"Thanks, Bill," Dr. Forester sighed. "I know we're not supposed to get emotionally involved with our patients, but after working so closely with him over these past few months…well, he's going to be devastated. Look, I need to talk to Dean. I know he must be worried sick out there."

"And I should go clean up the baby," the nurse interjected. "Dean will probably want to see him."

The doctor nodded. "You're right. I'm sure he will. Bill, can you stay for a few more minutes to monitor Sam?"

"Sure, Brady," Dr. Winslow replied. "Anything I can do to help." He couldn't help but feel sorry for the two as they left the room to carry out their heart-wrenching tasks.

Dean paced around the waiting room, every so often stopping in front of the window to watch the storm. The snow continued to fall, but now the wind had picked up and was blowing the snow around causing drifts around his car and the hedges along the sidewalk. He glanced at his watch. Time seemed to be crawling. Bobby had tried calling a bit ago, but he couldn't bring himself to answer. He felt bad about ignoring the call, but he didn't want to field a bunch of questions that he didn't have the answers to.

Dean whirled around when he heard the door open. He could tell by the look on the doctor's face that it wasn't going to be good news. His own face blanched as he murmured. "Sam?"

Dr. Forester motioned towards the chairs. "Let's sit down."

Dean moved to the chair in a daze. "Is Sam alive?" He asked just above a whisper.

"Yes, he's alive," the doctor assured Dean. "But we did run into a complication."

"Other than the placenta thing?" Dean asked.

The doctor nodded. "Placental abruption… that was the main complication. The others were side affects from that."

"Like what?" Dean wasn't sure he wanted to know but couldn't stop himself from asking.

The doctor began to explain. "Well, because of the torn placenta, he had some pretty heavy internal bleeding. We had to give him blood during the surgery. Even with that, he started to go into shock and he developed an irregular heartbeat. Eventually, I was able to stop the bleeding, and we were able to stabilize him."

"So, he's going to be okay?" Dean asked hopefully.

"I don't know for sure." The doctor shook his head. "When the placenta tore away from the intestinal wall, it allowed intestinal liquids to seep into the abdominal cavity. The bacteria in that liquid can cause a serious infection."

Dean became alarmed. "Isn't there something you can do to stop it?"

The doctor shrugged slightly. "Well, I washed the abdominal cavity with saline before I closed the incision, and now he's on an antibiotic to hopefully prevent the infection, but there's no guarantee."

"I see," Dean replied.

The doctor sighed heavily. He placed his elbows on his knees and hand his hands over his face. "Dean, the placental abruption also caused a complication with the baby. I'm sorry, but he died a few minutes after birth."

Dean's eyes widened in shock. "The baby died? But how?"

The doctor shook his head again. "I won't know for sure until I get Sam's permission for an autopsy. My guess though would be damage caused by either blood loss or oxygen deprivation. Both would have been compromised by the torn placenta."

Dean cleared his throat. His voice was still gruff when he spoke. "Can I see him?"

"Which one?" The doctor responded. "Sam or the baby?"

"Both," Dean answered simply.

The doctor nodded. "Sam is still under sedation, but you can sit with him for a while. My nurse is cleaning up the baby. She'll come get you once she's done."

Dean also nodded and followed Dr. Forester to Sam's room. He couldn't believe how still and pale he was. Dean dragged a chair next to the bed. He fought his emotions. He needed to be strong for Sam. Finally, he said. "I'm sorry, Sam. I don't know how you're going to deal with this, but I'm here for you."

The nurse re-entered the surgical suite and found a man in the room. "What the hell are you doing here?" She demanded.

The man turned to face her, cradling the baby in his arms. "What do you think? I'm here to get my son." Lifting the baby closer to his face, he said. "I think he has my nose. What'd you think?"

The nurse moved angrily across the room. "I think you're nuts! What is someone sees you here?"

The baby opened his eyes for a moment as the trickster readjusted his hold. Then the baby closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

The trickster shook his head at the nurse's concern. "Relax, I took care of the doctor when he worked on the baby, didn't I? He never even knew that he wasn't really shocking him. You have to remember what I'm capable of. No one will know that I was ever here."

The nurse shook her head. "I can't believe you actually talked me into this. I didn't think it would be this hard, but now that I've gotten to know Sam, well…"

"Well, you did agree," The trickster replied gruffly. "And I held up my end of the bargain. So, you'd better keep up yours."

"You promised me money," the nurse argued. "I haven't seen any yet. What about that?"

The trickster laughed. "Check the top drawer of your desk when you get home. You'll find a 236 million dollar winning lottery ticket. That should keep you comfortably secure for the rest of your life."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" The nurse asked.

The trickster gave her a pouting look. "Gail, I'm hurt. You don't trust me?"

Gail gave him an incredulous look. "Do you blame me? It's your whole purpose to fool people."

"Well, yeah, that is true," the trickster admitted. "But I made a bargain with you, and I always keep my bargains." Nodding towards the warming bed that held a lifeless body, he continued. "Now, there is a body for Sam to hold and grieve over, and the doctor can even autopsy it. It won't matter. For all concerned, it is Sam's baby. I'm going to take _my_ son home."

The nurse suddenly felt apprehensive about letting him leave. "What about a doctor? A newborn needs to be examined. You want to make sure that he is healthy."

The trickster just smiled. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart. I have it under control." He headed towards the door. "It was a pleasure doing business with you."

The nurse whirled around. "Just one more thing," she said.

The trickster rolled his eyes and turned back to look at her. "What?"

"Why did you do this?" Gail asked. "Why did you impregnate Sam only to take his baby and make him think that it's dead?"

"Simple," the trickster shrugged. "It was fun."

"You have a warped sense of fun," the nurse sighed as he slipped out the door. She turned back to the bed and carefully washed and wrapped the body in a blanket. Hot tears escaped her eyes. They weren't for a baby that lived an extremely short life, because that wasn't the case. Her conscience was attacking her. When she made the deal, she didn't know Sam Winchester, and now, she was responsible for causing him the worst pain a parent could endure. She gently stroked the check of the baby and quietly spoke to the replacement. "I'm sorry, little one. Sorry that you won't be raised by such a loving, young man like Sam."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," the doctor's voice came from behind her.

The nurse whirled around, worried that her guilt showed on her face. "Dr. Forester, I didn't hear you come in."

The doctor saw the look of fear on her face but chalked it up to being startled. "I'm sorry, Gail. I wanted to let you know that Dean wanted to see the baby, but why don't I handle it? It's been a long day for you. Go home. Get some rest."

The nurse shook her head. "What about Sam? He needs to me monitored."

"I'll handle it," the doctor replied. "You've done more than enough for today."

"Okay," the nurse answered. She knew that the doctor didn't understand her feelings, but she wanted to get away from the office. She couldn't handle the guilt. Lying, she continued. "Thank you for being understanding." She grabbed her coat and purse and left the clinic.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, Dean woke with a crick in his neck. He stood up and stretched. He grimaced as he tried to work the kinks out of his tired muscles. He had yet to find a chair that was comfortable to sleep in. He looked at his brother. Sam was still asleep. The doctor had purposely kept him sedated throughout the night. Dean was relieved to see that his color seemed better and that he seemed to be resting easier.

Dean turned when he heard the door open and saw the doctor enter. "Hey, Doc," he said simply.

"Good morning, Dean," the doctor replied. "How'd you sleep?"

Dean shook his head. "I've had worse. How's Sam?"

"He has significantly improved," the doctor answered. "His vitals have steadily improved overnight. His blood count is staying up which is good. I was really concerned considering how much blood he lost. I've already stopped the sedative. So, he should be waking up soon."

Dean sighed. "And then comes the hard part."

The doctor shook his head. "I know it will be hard, but we can't hide it from him. He'll need you now more than ever."

"I've never been good with emotions," Dean admitted. "But I'll do my best."

"Maybe you should try to get another nap before Sam wakes up," the doctor suggested. "You still look tired."

Dean gave the doctor a lopsided grin. "I could say the same to you. Did you get any sleep?"

"Some," the doctor said. "I have a couch in my office that I stretch out on. I was able to catch a few winks in between the hourly checks." The office phone began to ring. "Excuse me, I need to get that."

Dean nodded. He decided to take a few moments to relieve the urge to pee that had been building since he had woken up. After taking care of his need, he took some extra time to splash some cool water on his face and tried to force some errant strands of hair back into place. Once he was satisfied that he was somewhat presentable, he headed back towards Sam's room. He passed by the nurse's desk. Dr. Forester sat t the desk with a shell shocked look on his face.

"You okay, Doc?" Dean questioned.

The doctor looked up at Dean. "That was the sheriff's office. Gail is dead."

"What?!" Dean exclaimed. "What happened? Was there an accident?"

The doctor shook his head. "The details are a little sketchy. The paperboy found her this morning at the bottom of her porch. She had some blood on the back of her head. The police speculate that she slipped on the steps and fell backwards, knocking herself out. Then, she basically succumbed to the elements.

"Oh, Doc," Dean responded. "I'm sorry to hear that. Gail always seemed like such a nice person."

The doctor nodded. "She was. She was very good at putting the patients at ease. I'm sure you noticed. I could trust her completely. I don't know how I'm going to replace her."

Dean tried to be understanding. "What are you going to do until then?"

The doctor sighed. "I guess that's one of the perks of being a small town doctor. My schedule isn't normally packed. I'll just scale it back to a size that I can manage on my own, at least until I can find someone to replace her."

"What about Sam?" Dean asked. "How long will he have to stay here? You can't monitor him twenty-four seven. You'll burn yourself out."

"You're right," the doctor replied. "I'll see if Dr. Winslow can relieve me so I can get some rest."

"And if he can't?" Dean pressed.

The doctor shook his head. "I'll deal somehow. I'll have to." He could tell that Dean was still worried, so he continued. "Look, Sam is my first priority. I'll do whatever I have to in order to keep him healthy. I promise you that. Now, why don't you go sit with him? Let me know when he wakes up."

Dean still looked unconvinced but nodded. "Okay, Doc." He then headed back to Sam's room.

It was a little more than an hour before Sam began to stir. He slowly moved his head from side to side.

Dean leaned forward. "Hey, Sammy, are you with us?"

Sam mumbled something unintelligible and moved his hand to rest on his chest. He tried to shift his position but stopped almost immediately. Dean could tell by Sam's face that even in sleep, he was feeling some pain.

Dean stuck his head out the door. "Doc? Hey, Doc." The doctor stepped out of the door of his office and looked down the hallway. "I think he is waking up," Dean told him.

The doctor nodded. "I'll be right there."

Dean nodded and went back to Sam's bedside. He placed a hand on Sam's fore arm. "Come on, Sam. It's time to wake up. You've slept long enough. Come on. Open those eyes."

Dr. Forester entered the room. "How's he doing?"

Dean looked up at the doctor. "He's been doing some moving, and he was mumbling a second ago."

The doctor nodded as he placed the stethoscope in his ears. He placed the drum against Sam's chest to listen to Sam's heart and lungs. Sam mumbled and shifted again.

In a loud voice, the doctor said. "Sam, it's Dr. Forester. I need you to wake up for me."

Sam's eyes fluttered open for a few seconds, but then they drifted closed again.

Dean squeezed Sam's shoulder. "Oh, no you don't. You need to keep your eyes open."

Sam opened his eyes again and focused them on Dean. "Dean…" His voice was low and rough.

Dean forced a smile. "Good morning, sunshine. You finally back with us?"

"Whatever," Sam muttered as his eyes started to close again.

The doctor spoke up. "Sam, I have a few questions for you. Then you can go back to sleep." Sam just nodded. So, the doctor continued. "How are you feeling?"

A look of confusion crossed Sam's face. "Tired…confused…my gut hurts…I feel weak."

The doctor nodded. "The weakness is probably a residual effect from either the blood loss or the sedative, maybe a combination of both. On a scale from one to ten, how bad is the pain?"

Sam tried to focus. "Uhm…around a six…maybe a seven."

The doctor made some notes in Sam's chart. "I'll get you a pain killer."

Sam shook his head. "It's not that bad."

"The pain may not seem bad right now," the doctor replied. "But believe me; it will get worse as your body wakes up more. It's better to head it off than to try to relieve it once it gets too bad."

"Okay, you're the doctor," Sam gave in.

"Is there anything else?" The doctor asked.

Sam thought for a moment and then looked down at his stomach. He placed a hand on his only slightly rounded abdomen. "The baby…I had the baby?"

Dean exchanged a worried look with the doctor. Quietly, he answered. "Yes, you did."

"Well, where is he?" Sam demanded, his voice growing stronger. "I want to see him."

Dean turned his face away and didn't answer.

Sam became alarmed at Dean's response. He looked between Dean and the doctor. "Dean? Doc? What…" He didn't complete the question as the doctor sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Sam," the doctor began quietly. "There was a complication. I'm sorry. The baby didn't make it."

What little color Sam had drained away. "What do you mean? He died? That isn't possible. He's alive! I know he's alive!" Sam declared forcefully.

Dean tried to calm Sam down. "Sam, I'm sorry. He's telling you the truth. I've seen the baby. I know this is hard for you, but you have to accept it. The baby is gone. I'm so sorry, Sam."

Sam shook his head as his eyes filled with tears. "I don't understand. Things had been going so well. How'd this happen?"

The doctor sighed. "The placenta ruptured. Do you remember hearing that before we took you into surgery?"

Sam shook his head. "I remember being in a lot of pain. I really wasn't paying attention to what else was going on."

The doctor continued. "Well, the rupture created heavy internal bleeding. We almost lost you as well. We did everything we could for the baby, but we still lost him."

Sam gave the doctor a confused look. "So, he was born alive?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes, he was, but he died only minutes after birth. I _am_ sorry for your loss."

Sam's tears finally forced their way from his eyes. "Can I still see him?"

The doctor nodded again. "He's down in my small morgue. I'll go get him."

Once the doctor left the room, Sam turned to Dean. Through his tears, he said. "Go ahead, Dean, and say it."

Now, Dean was confused. "Say what?"

"That this was all for nothing," Sam replied angrily. "I was an idiot. After everything I did these past months, there's nothing to show for it. I should've listened to you in the first place. I could've saved us both a lot of hassle."

"You didn't know this was going to happen," Dean tried to comfort Sam. "You were following your heart. Never apologize for that. Besides, it wasn't for nothing. We learned a lot about each other. During that time we've developed a new respect for each other. We'll be better hunters because of it."

"You don't really believe that," Sam responded, although he didn't seem as angry. "But thanks for trying to cheer me up."

"Now, don't you be telling me what I believe," Dean tried to lighten his tone, but it didn't help his brother. "Sam, I know this is hard for you. You were really looking forward to this baby. So was I. Sure, I fought it at first, but I came around. _You_ brought me around. Please tell me if there is anything that I can do."

Sam tried to brush his tears away. "Tell me something Dean."

"Anything, Sam," Dean said.

"You said you saw the baby, right?" Sam asked. Dean nodded in response but didn't speak. "Does he look normal? Or is he…" He couldn't finish the question.

"Of course, he's normal," Dean answered. "The ultrasounds showed that. Why would you even ask?"

Sam shook his head. "Well, it's just…you know…with the trickster involved…"

Dean nodded. "I guess I hadn't thought about it like that." He paused for a moment. "Sam, I just don't…"

The doctor's re-entrance interrupted Dean. He carried the small bundled body. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Sam looked uncertain for a moment and then nodded. "I have to do this." He reached his arms out.

The doctor laid the baby in Sam's arms. He moved to a corner and tried to appear busy with the chart, but in reality, he was keeping a close eye on Sam.

Sam held the baby close. He ran a hand over the peach fuzz hair and then down the cold cheek. More tears fell from Sam's eyes. "He's beautiful," Sam choked out.

"Yes, he is," Dean agreed. "He reminds me a lot of you as a baby."

Sam looked at his baby again and whispered. "Oh, Jason…I wanted so much for you. I really…" His voice trailed off as he clutched the baby tightly to h is chest and loudly sobbed out his grief.

As hard as Dean tried to remain strong, a few tears managed to escape his eyes. He felt so helpless. In a rare show of emotions, Dean climbed onto Sam's bed and pulled Sam and the baby into his chest. He didn't say anything. He just held his brother, gently rubbing his back.

The doctor watched in concern as Sam's grief consumed him. What the brothers didn't know was that the doctor fully understood that grief. He let his mind wander back to that day more than twelve years ago. His wife gave birth to his one and only child, a stillborn son. Nothing was the same after that. He threw himself into his work. His marriage crumbled. He moved to Elk Point shortly after the divorce to escape the mess he had made of his life. He forced his mind back to the present as he realized that the harsh sobs were diminishing.

Sam still cried into Dean's shoulder. "It's not…fair," He spoke haltingly through his tears. "I…wanted…this baby…so much."

"I know you did," Dean tried to comfort Sam.

Sam continued. "I did…everything…to keep him…healthy…I tried…I really did…what did I…do wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong," Dr. Forester answered, moving closer to the bed. "Sometimes, these things just aren't meant to be. I know that's little comfort right now, but you can't blame yourself. It'll eat you alive."

Sam pulled out of Dean's arms. "I just feel…" Sam's tears grew heavier again. "I feel…" He stammered. "It hurts…so bad."

Dean looked at the doctor, silently pleading with him to help his brother.

The doctor placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Look, this is a lot to deal with all at once. Why don't you let me take the baby, and you try to get some rest?"

Sam shook his head. "I can't…not now. I can't…give him up."

"Come on, Sam," Dean said. "Listen to the doctor. He only wants the best for you."

Sam wiped his face as his tears lessened. "I know. I just don't think I _can_ rest now."

"I can give you something to help," Dr. Forester suggested.

Sam nodded and quietly said. "Okay," he handed the baby back to the doctor.

"I'll be right back," the doctor took the baby and left the room.

Dean took charge. "Okay, Sam, lay back, here. Close your eyes. Take a couple of deep breaths."

Sam did as he was ordered although his breathing was still slightly hitched.

Dean absentmindedly straightened the blanket. "Is there anything that you want me to do?"

Sam sighed and answered with a simple "No."

"Are you sure?" Dean pressed. "Anything? Food? Magazines?"

"Dean, please," Sam replied. "Shut up."

"Yeah, right," Dean sat down and waited in silence for the doctor to return.

Dr. Forester entered the room a few minutes later. He gave Sam an injection through his IV. It was a lighter sedative than the one he used the night before. It didn't just knock him out, but instead it relaxed him both physically and mentally to allow his body to fall into a natural sleep. Once Sam had drifted off, the doctor turned to Dean. "He'll probably sleep a while. Why don't you head home and get some rest yourself?"

Dean shook his head. "I'd rather stay here with Sam. He may need me."

Dr. Forester sighed. "The past twenty-four hours has been rough on you too. You look beat. You need some rest. You won't be ay good to Sam this way."

"I'll just sleep in this chair again," Dean argued. "I'll be fine."

One thing that Dr. Forester had learned over the past few months is the Winchester brothers were very stubborn. So, instead of trying to argue, he tried a different tactic. "Look, I have that couch in my office. It's not the best, but it's more comfortable than that chair. Why don't you go lay in there. I'll come get you if Sam needs you."

Dean nodded. "Okay, I can handle that." He stood up and followed the doctor to his office. Once there, he told the doctor. "If Sam needs me, you'll come and get me, no matter what. Right?"

"You have my word, the doctor replied. "Now, get some rest. I have some phone calls to make."

Dean stretched out on the cot. He closed his eyes and tried to relax, but his mind ran wild. It took about a half hour of tossing and turning before he finally fell into a restless sleep.

When Dean opened his eyes again, he was surprised to see that more than two hours had passed. A part of him wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, but he refused to give in to that part. He rolled off the cot and went to check on Sam. Dean got to Sam's room and saw that Sam was still sleeping. The doctor was not in Sam's room, and Dean knew that he wasn't in his office. So, Dean went in search of him. He found him a few minutes later, working in a lab. "Hey, Doc," he said as he entered the room.

Dr. Forester looked up from his microscope. "Dean, are you feeling better?"

Dean nodded. "I guess. The nap did help even if it was only a couple of hours. Thanks."

The doctor gave Dean a confused look. "For what?"

"For insisting on it," Dean replied. Quickly changing the subject, he asked. "How's Sam?"

The doctor sighed heavily. "His temperature is starting to rise. I'm afraid that he's developing an infection."

"What are you doing about it?" Dean demanded.

"I've increased the antibiotic," the doctor replied. "I've also drawn some blood. I've just started running some cultures. Hopefully, once I get those results, I can tailor the antibiotics to fight the infection more effectively."

"Has he been awake at all?" Dean wanted to know.

The doctor shook his head. "He stirred a bit when I drew the blood, but he went right back to sleep."

Dean slumped a bit. "I think I'll go sit with him again."

"First, I want you to stop by the kitchenette," the doctor told him. "You haven't eaten anything since you brought Sam in yesterday. Help yourself to anything in there. I don't want you getting sick because you're not eating."

Dean laughed lightly. "You just can't stop doctoring people. Can you? I'm not your patient, remember."

The doctor shrugged. It's an occupational hazard. Although, if you don't eat soon, you will be a patient. I assume you want to avoid that, right?"

"All right, you win," Dean answered. "I'll grab something and take it to Sam's room."

"Okay," Dr. Forester replied. "I'll be checking on him in a bit."

"See ya," Dean said as he left the room. He grabbed a protein bar and some juice and then went to his brother's room. He sat down and looked at Sam. "An infection, Sam?" He said. "You're supposed to be getting better. So, you'd better fight it. I'm counting on you. Don't you dare let me down." Then barely audible, he added. "Please, don't let me down."


	8. Chapter 8

Dean unlocked the door and entered the house. He looked around and sighed. It didn't seem real that it had been almost three days since they had left the house. He plopped down in the recliner and closed his eyes. He knew that he should go to his room and try to get some sleep. The chair in Sam's room wasn't very conducive to resting, and he could only seem to catch a couple hours at a time on the couch in Dr. Forester's office.

Dean jumped when his phone rang. He saw by the caller ID that it was Bobby again. He hit the ignore button. Both Bobby and Ellen had tried to call him numerous times over the past few days, but each time Dean ignored it. He just wasn't up to dealing with them. His only concern was Sam. The doctor figured that Sam should be able to come home in a few days. Dean looked around the living room again. He took in the box of toys and the piles of clothes scattered around. He tossed his cell phone dismissively on the coffee table and headed to the garage to find some empty boxes. He couldn't bring Sam back to this. It would be too painful.

Dean frowned when the doorbell rang a few hours later. He was almost done and wanted to get back to the clinic. He thought about ignoring it, but then he heard some knocking and Bobby's muffled voice calling "Dean?" through the door. He should have known better. Bobby would have been worried with all the missed calls. Well, he knew he couldn't ignore him anymore. He sighed as he headed across the living room.

Dean opened the door and found not only Bobby but also Ellen standing on the stoop. He shook his head as he stepped away from the open door. "I should've known," he muttered to himself.

Bobby walked in blasting questions. "What did you expect? Dean, what the hell is going on? I've tried calling you I don't know how many times over the past few days. Why haven't you answered your phone? We would've been here two days ago, but Ellen's place got hit with an ice storm that we had to wait out. We waited for you to return our calls, but you never did. I'm disappointed in you, boy. This isn't like you. You told Ellen…"

While Bobby was in full rant mode, Ellen was watching Dean's demeanor. She watched as Dean kept his back to them, his shoulders drooping. He also accepted Bobby's tirade without a word. That wasn't like Dean. Normally, the two of them would be going toe-to-toe with each other trying to bully their point across.

"Enough, Bobby," Ellen interrupted. Bobby gave her a confused look, but she just simply turned back towards Dean and in a quiet comforting voice, asked. "Dean, what happened? Sam's not…" She couldn't bring herself to finish her question.

Dean gave her a quick glance over his shoulder and then shook his head. "No, Sam's going to recover. The doctor figures that he'll be able to come home in a few days." He paused for a moment as he fought to clear the lump in his throat. "The baby though…he didn't make it."

Ellen's face fell at the news. She quickly moved next to Dean and pulled him into a hug. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry to hear that. No wonder you haven't called us. This is horrible. How is Sam dealing with it?"

Dean stiffly returned the embrace with a stoic look on his face. He stepped back when she mentioned Sam. He shook his head. "Well, he's obviously not taking it very well. This baby meant a great deal to him. That's why I'm packing everything up. I don't want him hurt seeing all this stuff."

Ellen nodded. "I understand you wanting to help him, but are you sure you should do this? Maybe Sam should. It'd help give him closure."

"That's why I'm putting everything in the garage," Dean replied. "If he wants to go though them, he can, but if not, it's all ready to be given away."

"Look, Dean," Bobby began. "I'm sorry about jumping your ass when we first got here. I should've asked for an explanation instead of just assuming."

Dean gave Bobby a wry smile. "You know what they say when you assume…"

Bobby smiled and nodded. "I deserved that." Looking around he continued. "Can I give you a hand? You look pretty worn out. When was the last time you slept? Or ate for that matter?"

Dean shrugged. "I've been catching a few winks here and there at the clinic. As far as eating, I guess it was dinner last night."

"Then maybe you should get a little of both," Bobby suggested.

"That sounds like a really good idea," Ellen added. "Do you have anything in the kitchen to make a decent meal?"

Dean shrugged again. "I don't know. Sam kept track of that stuff."

"Well, I'll take a look," Ellen said as she headed into the kitchen.

Bobby watched her go. "Leave it to Ellen to take charge."

Dean looked guiltily at Bobby. "I'm sorry that I didn't call you. I've just been so wrapped up in trying to help Sam through this. I could've saved you guys a trip."

"Saved us a trip?" Bobby asked incredulously. "Do you really think that we wouldn't have come? Sam needs all the support he can get. We wouldn't leave you to alone to deal with this."

Dean's eyes filled with tears. "Thanks, Bobby; I'm sure that Sam will appreciate it."

Bobby was taken aback at Dean's sudden show of emotion. "What is it, Dean? What haven't you told us?"

Dean shook his head. "It's nothing. I guess I'm just feeling the lack of sleep. Don't worry about it."

Bobby looked unconvinced. "Are you sure that's…"

Ellen interrupted at that moment. "Not bad for two bachelors, but I need to run to the store for a few things. Where's the closest store?"

"Up the street, two blocks, hang a left, it'll be on your right another three blocks up." Dean directed.

Ellen held her hand out to Bobby who placed his car keys in it. "I'll be right back."

Bobby watched the door close behind Ellen. "Okay, Dean, why don't we have a seat and you can tell me what's bothering you."

Dean shook his head. "I told you. It's…"

"I know what you told me," Bobby interrupted. "But I also know you well enough to know when you're feeding me a line of bull. Now, sit."

Dean seemed to be debating silently with himself. Finally, he nodded, but headed into the kitchen first. "You want a beer?"

"Sure, I could go for one," Bobby answered.

Dean came back to the living room and handed Bobby a beer. He took a seat on the edge of the couch. Both men twisted the caps off their bottles, and Bobby took a hefty drink. Dean, however, just seemed to stare at the bottle.

Now Bobby knew that something was wrong. "Dean?" Bobby prompted.

Dean placed his bottle on the coffee table and sat back further on the couch. "This is all my fault."

Bobby gave Dean a confused look. "What is your fault?"

"The baby…" Dean barely choked out. "I killed the baby."

Bobby's eyes widened in shock. "You can't be serious. Why would you even _think_ such a thing?"

Dean abruptly stood up and began pacing. "It's true. I knew that something was wrong. I should've called the doctor earlier. If I had, I could have caught the doctor before he went out. He could've done the surgery before the rupture, and then the baby wouldn't have died. So, see. It's all my fault. Hell, if I hadn't pissed off the trickster, Sam wouldn't have been pregnant in the first place. How am I ever going to make this up to Sam?"

"Dean! You're rambling," Bobby interjected. "Catch the doctor? Rupture? How about you start at the beginning and calmly explain what happened?"

Dean sighed and sat back down. "It was three days ago. We were in the middle of a snowstorm. I ended up staying home from work. I could tell that something was wrong with Sam. He complained about a backache and a general feeling of not feeling 'right'. I wanted to call the doctor right away, but Sam wanted to wait. So, I waited. By the time that we realized what was going on, the doctor had been called out to an accident. Because of the weather and the terrain, it took a while to get a hold of the doctor. Anyways, once we finally got to the clinic, and the doctor got there, Sam was in full blown labor. They were getting ready to do the c-section when the placenta ruptured. They rushed him into surgery, but it was too late. The massive blood loss from the torn placenta caused irreversible damage to the baby. He died shortly after birth."

Bobby shook his head. "I'll admit it sounds like you two were victims of some bad circumstances, but I don't see how it's your fault."

Dean threw his hands up in desperation. "Weren't you listening? If I had called the doctor when I wanted to, this would've all been different. We would've been at the doctor's hours earlier. He would've recognized Sam's symptoms as labor. He wouldn't have gone out on that accident call. He would've delivered the baby long before the placenta would have had a chance to rupture. Jason would still be alive if I had just followed my gut."

"Does Sam blame you?" Bobby asked.

Dean shrugged. "I really don't know."

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Well, if he hasn't said anything about blaming you…"

"That's just it," Dean interrupted. "He hasn't said much of anything. He had one major emotional outburst when he first woke up and held the baby. Ever since then, he has seemed to close himself off. We can only get short responses out of him, if we get a response at all. The doctor says that some depression is normal, but even he is concerned about Sam."

"He would be the one to know," Bobby replied.

Dean nodded. "He also said that the medicines to fight the infection could be…"

"Whoa, wait a minute," Bobby said. "What infection? You didn't say anything about that. Could that have had anything to do with the baby's death?"

Dean shook his head. "No, the infection is a complication of the torn placenta. So, again, another thing that could've been avoided if I had listened to my instincts."

"Look, Dean," Bobby tried to comfort Dean. "You can't blame yourself. You didn't know that this would happen. It's just one of those things that is out of our control."

Dean shook his head. "I can't seem to shake the feeling that God...or fate…maybe the devil himself is punishing me for the way I acted when we first found out about the baby."

"What do you mean?" Bobby asked. "I know you said that you wanted him to get rid of it early on, but was there more?"

Dean snatched up his beer and took a long drink. He stared at the bottle in his hand while he tried to collect his thoughts. Bobby could tell that Dean was thinking. So, he patiently waited for him to explain.

Finally, Dean sighed heavily and began to explain. "When we first found out about the baby, I wasn't happy to say the least. I wanted to go out and hunt down that son of a bitch trickster. I just assumed that Sam would get rid of the baby. So, needless to say, when Sam announced his intention of keeping the baby, I turned my anger towards him. I yelled. I pleaded. I threatened. I did anything I could think of to get him to do what I wanted which was to get rid of the baby. It wasn't until I realized that he was only contemplating it because of the horrible things I said. Man, I felt so low. I was trying to manipulate my own brother. It was then that I decided to be supportive. I have to admit that over these past few months, I started to look forward to the baby. Like Sam said, it could be his only chance to have a child. Now, it's gone."

Bobby gave Dean an incredulous look. "Let me get this straight. You think the baby died because months ago you thought Sam should have an abortion?"

"I guess you would call it 'cosmic justice'," Dean replied. "I wanted the baby gone, and now it's gone. I got my wish. What would you call it?"

Bobby rolled his eyes. "I call it bull shit. You aren't the first person to consider abortion when faced with an unwanted pregnancy. It doesn't make you a bad person, and you're not being punished for it. It was a difficult time, and you were only thinking about what was best for you and your brother."

"But I could've handle things so much better," Dean argued.

"Every one can say that about things in their lives," Bobby argued back. "But that doesn't mean anything. There's not a big scale weighing your actions. Life is what it is. You have to deal with both the good and the bad, and one isn't caused by the other."

Dean shrugged. "My brain knows that. It's just a matter of convincing my heart."

"I know it's hard," Bobby said. "But you need to deal with it, not just for yourself, but for Sam too."

Dean nodded. "I know. I just don't know what to do anymore."

"Well, right now, _you_ are going to get some sleep," Bobby said, taking charge.

Dean shook his head. "I've got to finish packing this stuff and take it to the garage."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it," Bobby replied.

"But what about Ellen?" Dean continued. "She'll be back soon with dinner."

Bobby had to fight back a smile. Dean, at this moment, reminded Bobby of a small child trying to talk his way out of a nap. It wouldn't surprise him if Dean started whining about a drink of water or having to go to the bathroom.

Bobby stood up. "Look, you're _obviously_ not yourself right now, and I think it's because of your lack of sleep. Now, I want you to go lay down, and let me worry about Ellen. Do you understand me?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm not a child, you know."

"Of course not," Bobby said. "You're a grown adult."

"Thank you," Dean interjected.

Bobby ignored him and continued speaking. "But you are a grown adult who is under tremendous stress and suffering from lack of sleep. So, your judgment isn't to clear right now. So, trust me when I say that I'm only looking out for you. Now, go to sleep."

Dean sighed. "Okay, okay, do you mind if I hit the john first?"

Bobby couldn't stifle the laugh that escaped.

Dean gave him a confused look. "What?"

Bobby just shook his head. "Nothing, just do what you have to."

Dean shrugged and left the room. About ten minutes later, Bobby stood outside Dean's door. He could hear an occasional snore out of the soundly sleeping man. He headed back to the living room and began hauling the boxes back to the garage.

It was a good four hours before Dean woke up again. He wandered into the kitchen, following the tantalizing smell of the chili that was bubbling on the stove. Bobby and Ellen sat at the kitchen table engaging in quiet conversation.

Ellen was the first to spot Dean. "There he is. How're you feeling?"

Dean shrugged. "Okay, I guess. I must have been really out. I remember thinking when I laid down that there was no way that I could sleep. The next thing I knew, I was waking up a few minutes ago."

Bobby nodded. "You obviously needed the sleep. Now, how about some food? Ellen has made her famous three bean chili."

Dean glanced at the bubbling pot. "Were you guys waiting for me? You didn't have to."

Ellen steered Dean towards the table. "Don't worry about it. Besides, chili only gets better the longer it simmers." She reached into the cupboard and grabbed some bowls.

"None for me please," Dean said. "I'll just take some coffee. I really need to get back to the clinic."

"No, you don't," Bobby replied. "I've already talked to Dr. Forester. He said Sam was doing the same. He was happy to hear that you were finally getting some rest, and he wanted us to make sure that you got a good meal in you before you go back."

"You talked to Dr. Forester?" Dean asked in confusion.

Bobby shrugged. "He called your phone. It was sitting on the coffee table. I was worried when the caller ID showed 'Elk Point Medical' on it. I thought something might've happened to Sam. So, I answered the phone."

"Did something happen to Sam?" Dean asked in alarm.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Give me some credit, boy. If something had happened to Sam, I would've woke you up."

Dean was still confused. "Then why did he call?"

Bobby laughed lightly. "He was worried about you. Since you didn't show up after lunch like you said you would…"

"Oh yeah," Dean replied. "I forgot I told him that. Did he say anything else?"

"Not really," Bobby answered. "Now, sit down and eat so we can go to the clinic."

Dean did as he was told. Once he sat down, Ellen set a bowl in front of him. It only took one bite for him to realize how hungry he was. The three engaged in polite but forced conversation as they ate. Soon, they were finished and on their way to the clinic.

Sam forced a small smile to his face when Bobby and Ellen entered his room. "Hey, guys," he said simply.

"Hey, Sam," Bobby replied. "We came by to see how you were doing."

Sam sighed. "As you can see, I'm doing fine. The doctor said that I'll be able to go home in a few days."

Ellen sat at the edge of the bed and gripped one of his hands. "Sam, I'm so sorry to hear about the baby."

Sam pulled his hand from Ellen's grip and crossed his arms. "That's just life. It wasn't meant to be. There's nothing to be said."

Ellen gave Dean and Bobby a concerned look. "That's a pretty cavalier attitude about it," she said.

Sam shrugged. "It happened. Now I just need to move on. There's no need to beat it to death."

Ellen was taken back by Sam's hardness. It was so unlike him. She brushed at some imaginary lint from Sam's blanket. "Well, if you ever want to talk about it, you know how to reach me."

Sam nodded. "Thanks, I appreciate it. I know you mean well, but I'm okay really."

Ellen stood up and gave Sam a kiss on the forehead. "I'm glad to hear that, but my offer still stands if things change."

Sam nodded again. "Look, I'm still pretty tired. Do you mind leaving so I can get some rest?"

"Sure," Bobby answered for Ellen. "We'll just be out in the waiting area."

"You guys go ahead," Dean told them. "I think I'll sit with Sam until he goes to sleep."

"You don't have to," Sam said.

"I know I don't have to," Dean replied. "I want to. Humor me. Okay?" Dean watched as Bobby and Ellen left the room. Before Sam had a chance to fall asleep, he asked. "You were a little cold to Ellen. Don't you think?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't want to talk about it."

Dean shook his head. "She came a long way. She only wants to help."

Sam's voice grew hard. "Well, I didn't ask her to come. I don't need help. I'm dealing with it. I don't need to talk about it. I just want to forget it."

Dean fought to keep his voice even. "It isn't that easy and soon you'll realize that."

"Whatever," Sam mumbled as he shifted slightly in bed and closed his eyes.

Ellen and Bobby made their way to the waiting room. "I can see why Dean is concerned," Ellen said. "Sam isn't anything like himself."

Bobby nodded. "But you can't really blame him. This whole situation would send anyone tripping."

Ellen shook her head as they sat down. "He seems so hard. I'm afraid that he's lost more than just the baby. It seems like he's lost a piece of himself."

Bobby placed an arm around Ellen's shoulder. "We'll do what we can to help him find it again."

Ellen sighed as she sat down. She silently prayed for the Winchesters. It was going to be hard for them to work though this. She knew.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean sat on a barstool at the Roadhouse nursing a beer. Bobby sat on the stool next to him drinking his own beer. Ellen was behind the bar making sure that everything was set for the nightly rush.

"Let me get this straight," Ellen was saying. "You left that poor boy alone?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "It's not like that. He's been home for a month now. The doctor says that he's healing fine and should be able to go back to hunting in a couple more weeks, another month at the most."

"So you figured that it would be okay to leave him," Ellen replied in disgust.

"Bobby needed some help on this hunt," Dean argued. "I've only been gone for two days, and I've called him every few hours or so just to check up on him. He's fine."

Ellen gave Bobby a look of unbelief. He wisely kept his mouth shut. "He's fine?" She asked with sarcasm. "So, does that mean he's talking to you again? Does he smile at all? What does he do all day? You know, there's a big difference between being physically fine and emotionally fine. Why didn't you call me? I could've stayed with Sam while you were gone."

Dean slammed his beer bottle onto the bar. "Look, I don't appreciate what you're implying," he growled. "I'm not stupid. I know he's not emotionally fine. I'm doing my best, but I can't make him talk to me. He absolutely refuses to talk about the baby at all. Basically, he spends all his time on the net trying to trace the trickster so he can kill the son of a bitch. Sure, I'll admit that when Bobby first called about the job, I saw it as a way to escape, but when Sam found out about it, he practically pushed me out of the house."

Ellen began to feel guilty about the assumptions she had made. "I'm sorry that I jumped to conclusions. I just know how hard it is to deal with such a tragedy."

Bobby and Dean exchanged confused looks. "Ellen?" Bobby questioned.

Ellen sighed. "Two years before I had Jo I lost a son. He died in utero. I was not quite seven months pregnant. The doctor offered to do an autopsy to determine the cause of death, but we would've had to pay for it ourselves, and we just didn't have the money. I had a hard time coming to grips with the loss. It almost tore my marriage apart, but Bill stood by me. Eventually, I worked through my grief, and we were closer for it."

"Why didn't you say something before?" Bobby asked.

Ellen shrugged. "It was a private matter, and once Bill was gone…well, never mind. You know now."

"Maybe you should talk to Sam," Dean suggested. "Heaven knows, I'm in over my head. With your shared experiences, maybe you can get through to him."

"Oh, I don't know, Dean," Ellen replied. "There are still a lot of differences between our cases, mainly the fact that he was only pregnant due to a supernatural cause."

"But your sense of loss would be the same," Dean argued. "Won't you at least give it a try? For Sam's sake? Please?"

Ellen really wanted to say no, but Dean's pleading was getting to her. "All right," she gave in. "For Sam's sake."

Dean knew that it was asking a lot of Ellen. In a quiet but heartfelt tone, he said. "Thanks, I owe you big."

"Yes, you do," Ellen replied. "And if you agree to watch the bar for me, I'll head over and talk to Sam tonight."

Dean laughed lightly. "You mean you actually trust me behind your bar."

Ellen gave him a wry look. "Hell, no, but Bobby will be here, so will Ash, and you know what I'll do to you if I get a bad report from them. Right?"

"Yes ma'am," Dean replied with a mock salute. "You can count on me."

"I'd better," Ellen began giving orders. "Everything is cash only transactions, no bar tabs, no IOUs, and absolutely no credit cards." She then mumbled. "Like any hunter would have a credit card in his own name anyways."

Dean heard her despite her mumbling. "Hey," he cried indignantly.

Ellen shot him a silencing look. "Make sure that you shut down the grill when you close up. I don't want to come back and find my place in ashes."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yes, mother, and I'll lock the door so you don't get robbed, and I'll even do the dishes so they don't draw bugs."

Ellen tried to playfully smack Dean across the bar, but he backed out of her reach. "Don't be such a smart-alec," she told him.

Dean gave her a pouty look. "But it's so much fun."

Ellen shook her head. "Oh, behave. I'll be back tomorrow."

Dean said goodbye, and Bobby wished her a safe journey as she left the Roadhouse.

Dean whistled as he climbed out of the impala. Ellen had brought back an encouraging report. She said that Sam had opened up to her about some of his feelings and fears. Even though she didn't share the specifics, she felt confident that Sam would be willing to open up to Dean.

Dean unlocked the door. He stepped through the door only to have a glass shatter against the door frame above his head. He instinctively ducked but still got pelted by a few shards of glass. Luckily, none cut him. "What the hell?" He yelled.

Sam was livid. "You son of a bitch! How could you?"

"What?" Dean fired back in confusion.

"You sent Ellen here," Sam spat out.

Dean shook his head. "I didn't send her…Okay, I did ask her to come, but she was willing to."

"Only after you convinced her that I had completely lost my mind," Sam sneered.

"It wasn't like that," Dean protested. "I was worried about you."

"Like hell you were," Sam retorted.

"I was!" Dean continued. "You said you were fine, but I'm not stupid, Sammy. You've been shutting me out. You won't talk to me about your feelings or the baby."

"Like you really want to hear it." Sam scoffed. "You had all of Jason's things packed up and out of the house before I even got home. You tried to erase him like he never existed…like he didn't matter, but he did matter. He mattered to me." Sam's voice caught in his throat. He turned away to hide the tears that were making their way to the surface.

Dean softened his voice. "I know he mattered. He mattered to me too. But you have to understand, _you_ also matter to me. I was afraid that seeing all his stuff would be too painful for you. Jason's things are all out in the garage so when _you're_ ready, you can look through them. You know that, but as far as I know, you haven't gone through them. Doesn't that say something to you? It may not seem like it, but I've been trying to do what's best for you."

"Whatever," Sam replied as he dropped heavily into the recliner. The sudden movement caused the chair to shift back and bump the wall with a thud. Sam ignored the movement and buried his face in his hands. He took deep breaths and tried to pull himself together.

Dean sighed. He was right back where he had started. He just didn't know how to help his younger brother. Sam's pose signaled the end of the conversation. Dean debated about pressing him, but he really didn't want to duck another thrown glass. Instead, he moved next to the recliner and nudged the arm of it with his knee. "Come on, Sasquatch. Stand up. Let's move this chair out before you put a hole in the wall."

Sam looked up at Dean. "Huh?"

Dean motioned towards the back of the chair. "Chair…wall…move…"

"Oh yeah," Sam replied as he stood up. He grabbed the arms of the chair and pulled it about six inches away from the wall. He turned to sit back down, but Dean stopped him.

"Hang on a minute," Dean pushed the chair forward a little more and squeeze behind it while bending over and picked something up.

"What've you got?" Sam asked.

"It's uhm…" Dean stammered slightly. "It's Jason's teddy bear." He held up the bear with "Baby's First Teddy" on its stomach for Sam to see.

"Where'd that come from?" Sam asked as he reached for the bear.

Dean handed the bear to Sam. "I don't know. I thought I had gotten everything."

Sam sat down and gently fingered the arms of the bear. "My baby," he whispered. Tears began to fall from his eyes.

Dean knelt in front of Sam. "I'm so sorry, Sam."

Sam brushed at the tears that were falling. "You didn't know it was back there."

Dean felt his own tears building. "No, I mean for you losing the baby. I know it's my fault. I don't know how you can stand to be around me. If I could go back and change things, I would."

Sam blinked in confusion. "Dean, what are you talking about?"

Dean sighed. "I should've done more. I should've been more supportive."

"I don't understand, Dean," Sam replied. "You were supportive. You were there for me. You put up with my crazy emotional outbursts. You even quit hunting and for the first time in your life, got a normal job. What more could you have done?"

Dean shook his head. "I should've listened to you from the start. I shouldn't have tried to force my feelings on to you. I shouldn't have tried to talk you into the abortion. I was just so afraid, afraid of how you would handle it, afraid of how you having a baby would change our lives, our jobs, and our relationship. Most of all, I was afraid of losing you."

Sam tried to give Dean an encouraging look. "Dean, those feelings are all normal. Don't you think that I had those same fears?"

"But you worked through those fears," Dean argued. "I never did. I just got good at hiding them. I think that's why God punished me by hurting you and taking your baby."

"God?" Sam questioned.

Dean shrugged. "God…fates…a higher power…the man on the moon…whatever you want to call it. I'm being punished for my attitude, and you are suffering too because of it." The tears that had been building began falling from Dean's eyes. "I really am so sorry."

The sight of his brother crying caused Sam to cry again. "Dean, Jason's death was _not_ your fault. This isn't a punishment. It's just something that happened. It had nothing to do with me being a man or our jobs or even your fears. I don't blame you, and I don't want you to blame yourself either."

"Then why won't you open up to me about Jason?" Dean asked.

Sam laughed despite the tears. "I guess I was afraid. We've never been good about sharing our feelings, and after dealing with the hormones over these past months, I didn't want you to think that my feminine side was here to stay."

It took a second for Sam's explanation to sink in to Dean's head. He smiled. "You're a nut…a certifiable nut." It surprised Sam when Dean pulled him into his arms. "I love you, Sammy."

The two brothers separated, and Dean sat on the couch. The floodgates were finally open, and they quietly talked about how to move on from their loss.

Elsewhere, a man was holding a conversation with the baby he was rocking. "You're pretty tired there. Aren't you, David? It was a big day with the trip to the doctor's. You're just growing like a weed. I'm not surprised though. I'm taking really good care of you. Aren't I? I'm going to be the best daddy ever. You won't ever miss your other daddy. Can you believe that nurse at the doctor's office? Saying that you don't look like a 'David' to her. Well, there was no way I was going to call you 'Jason' like he wanted to." He placed the now sleeping baby in the bassinet. Looking down at the baby, he continued speaking. "Don't you worry. You're _my_ son. No one is _ever_ going to take you away from me. If they try, I'll take care of them just like I took care of the nurse at the clinic. I can't believe that she had a sudden attack of conscience and wanted to tell Sam about me. I couldn't let that happen. I love you too much for that."

The trickster smiled as he quietly watched his son sleep on.

THE END


End file.
